The Darkest of Desires
by Camilla Richard
Summary: Set after fyre. Jenna's mother, Queen Cerys, makes a strange and dangerous request of her daughter, Jenna, that changes not only her life but the lives of everyone she knows. As the Castle descends into chaos, will Jenna be able to mend things before it is too late? Will she even want to? All canon pairings that appear in fyre will be present in this and a few "fanon" ones too.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, Septimus Heap fans! I know that I told you a few weeks ago that I was coming back but I was so slow about it that I bet that many of you thought, as Marcia Overstrand would say, that I was "all talk and no do." I have been reading the fics in this category during the last few days and they have inspired me to try my own hand at writing again. I want to thank you all in advance for taking the time to read this. This story will have fourteen chapters, I think (7 plus 7 :) ) but each chapter will be much longer than my older ones. So don't worry, I'm not actually writing a much shorter story than I used to. I'll write one a week and maybe more depending on the week in question. Thanks again for stopping by. This is set after Fyre so I hope that I don't spoil much for those who haven't read it.

Chapter One

It was nearly three in the morning but Queen Jenna was not at all tired. She had spent the last five hours in what had formerly been Sarah Heap's sitting room in the Palace, talking to her biological father, Milo Banda. This was actually not an unusual occurrence now that Milo was staying in the Palace with his daughter. Jenna's adoptive parents, Sarah and Silas Heap, had moved back into their own home in the Ramblings and left their grown daughter to her own devices. Not a day passed when Jenna didn't miss their company but she was growing to like having the Palace to herself now. She was Queen after all and she felt that it was only right that she do what she wished rather than following Sarah's demands as she had as a young princess. Milo was a guest in the Palace whenever he returned home from his voyages. As a travelling merchant, his profession frequently took him far from the Castle and Jenna, who had not always gotten along with her father, now missed him immensely whenever he was away. She was beginning to realize that she had more in common with Milo than she had originally thought. Ever since she had finally encountered her mother, Queen Cerys, a few months earlier, Jenna had often wondered what her life would have been like if her mother had never been killed. There would have been more children, certainly, but she would still have been the heir to throne. Jenna had come to love asking her father questions about her mother. Queen Cerys's ghost did not often choose to appear to Jenna and, when she did so, it was merely to lecture her. Jenna could not help but believe that her mother had not always been so cold. When Milo described her, she sounded like an adventurous, charming young woman. Perhaps her untimely death had brought an end to all of that happiness. Surely having such a tragically short life would drive any ghost to be bitter. Still though, Jenna did often wish that her mother were more interested in her life. Although she would never admit to it, it bothered Jenna that her mother seemed so disappointed in her. Every time she made a decision as Queen, she wondered if Cerys would approve of it. Due to the fact that her mother did not seem to have much time for her, Jenna had begun to turn to Milo for reassurance, which he was only too happy to give her. Thus, their relationship at last started to develop.

Milo had been only too happy to stay at the Palace in the months following his daughter's coronation. For years, he had longed to become closer to Jenna but she had seemed so happy with her adoptive parents and he had never wanted to complicate things. He loved being near Jenna. She reminded him of Cerys and, with Cerys's ghost visiting him on a relatively regular basis, he felt that things were almost normal again. Well, as normal as they possibly could be given the circumstances. Talking to Cerys was never as easy as he had imagined it would be, however. No matter how hard he tried to look elsewhere, his eyes were always drawn to those atrocious bloodstains just over her heart. Whenever he looked at them, guilt invaded his spirit and filled him completely. Seeing what had become of his beloved wife was constant reminder to do all that he possibly could to keep Jenna safe from harm. Despite the fact that Milo heartily enjoyed that he could speak to his wife again, he did not approve of how critical Cerys was of the Heap family. Often the couple's conversations, which should have been tender after so many years apart, became arguments about what was best for Jenna. Cerys believed that her daughter ought to be kept as far away from the Heaps as possible because Wizards "do not know the first thing about the life of a Queen and will only make the poor child more confused than she currently is!" Milo disagreed on account of Jenna's feelings for her adoptive family. Cerys was, as she always had been, a stickler for the rules and, in the case of Jenna's reign as Queen, that was only causing problems.

On this particular evening, Jenna was questioning her father about a fairly sensitive subject that, before now, Jenna had never broached. "Milo," she began tentatively, looking her father in the eye to be certain that he would not look away from her. Milo held her gaze. "Is it true that it has become your habit to take Marcia out to the Little Theater in the Ramblings every few weeks?"

Milo's visage rapidly changed from placid and inquisitive to beet red. "Well, yes, dear, but where did you hear that?"

"Sally Mullin. She came to visit Mum when I was in our old place in the Ramblings on Monday, helping Mum clean the old sofa. It really is filthy now and I don't think Mum is ever going to manage to clean it entirely. I'd get a new one if I were her. Anyway, that isn't the point. I wanted to ask you because Sally does have a tendency to embellish stories a bit and it just seemed so ludicrous to me. It is true then?" A look of undisguised disgust was written across Jenna's beautiful face as she regarded Milo, "You're courting _Marcia_ and then returning here to have conversations with the Queen…I mean, Mama, afterward? Milo, doesn't that seem a bit bizarre to you? My mother still refers to you as her husband. I firmly believe that this is something that you ought to discuss with her out of respect for her."

Milo was, for a moment, too dumbfounded to speak. His daughter had matured so much in the last few months that sometimes he scarcely recognized her. In his opinion, her sense of moral duty was unmatched and that fact alone made him enormously proud to be her father. However, this question she had asked of him left him in a difficult situation. Milo Banda had indeed been courting the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, Marcia Overstrand, during the past few months. He hardly thought of his courtship of her as a serious relationship but it had provided some much needed amusement. Milo knew that Marcia had fancied him for years. He had, unbeknownst to Jenna of course, courted Marcia prior to his marriage to Queen Cerys. His marriage had broken Marcia's heart and made her even colder than she had been previously. Milo had, in the years following his marriage, always felt a fleeting guilt about this but he knew that it was not his fault that he had fallen for Cerys and preferred her. Milo had found Marcia Overstrand charming but her social skills has been decidedly lacking and her immense focus on her career as a Wizard had ruled out any possibility of a marriage to her and marriage was something the young Milo had ultimately desired. Thus he had scarcely been able to believe his luck when, after attending a masquerade ball at the Palace, it had come to his attention that the exquisitely beautiful young Queen had set her eyes upon him.

Milo stared into Jenna's eyes now, those same intense eyes that he had initially seen seventeen years earlier when he had first stared into the eyes of the woman who would become his wife. Milo sighed heavily. Jenna was so like Cerys. She was, thankfully, considerably less grumpy but she was still as passionate and lovely as Cerys had been. Milo was convinced that Jenna had inherited all of Cerys attractive traits and none of the ones that had irked him incessantly. She was certainly her mother's doppelganger from a physical standpoint with her long, raven hair, tawny skin, petite form, and bright violet eyes. Her lips were parted in a way that Milo knew would tempt young men to distraction. The thought bothered him more than he liked to admit.

Jenna interrupted his thoughts, "Milo, are you listening to me?" There was an undeniable trace of irritation in her tone.

Milo was immediately shaken from his reverie, "Yes, I am. Of course, I am. Jenna…I don't know how to explain this but I believe that your mother already knows about Marcia. She always did. It is a bit of a long story but it is time that you know it. I forget so often that you truly are a grown lady now." Milo hesitated and Jenna leaned closer to her father, suddenly eager as a child to hear the story he had for her. She did not take for granted the fact that Milo was now straightforward with her, rather than ambiguous as he had been toward her when she had been a bit younger. She had faith that whatever he was about to tell her was absolutely true. "Years ago, when I was a young lad just beginning as a merchant, I wasn't quite ready to "settle down," if you know what I mean. I was at that age when young men are apt to court women and mean nothing by it. I courted quite a few because I was a rather attractive fellow in those days…" At this remark, Jenna had to fight the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance but her expression passed Milo by, "and one of the women I courted was Marcia."

Jenna gasped involuntarily, "You courted Marcia before you courted my mother? Milo, frankly, one of the main reasons that any of this surprises me is that I really rather doubted that Marcia had the time or desire to court anyone. She is so obsessed with **magyk** and I suppose I assumed that she always had been. I can't imagine her any other way. When I was a bit younger, I used to wonder if she had ever been kissed!"

Milo offered Jenna his wry, slightly lopsided smiled and Jenna returned it with her own, radiant one. "I can confirm for you that she has been kissed and that she's not bad at all."

Jenna's smile immediately vanished and was replaced by an expression of horror. "Milo, I did not need to know that. Please continue. I just….ugh…what did you see in her? She's kind of awkward and she really is so gauche."

Milo suppressed the urge to laugh in amusement at his daughter's antics. "She's not that bad, love. Marcia is very attractive in her way. She can be rather adorable when she wants to be." Jenna suppressed a splutter, "Anyway, I was courting her but she seemed quite focused on her career-she was ExtraOrdinary apprentice at the time after all-and many of the topics about which she spoke I didn't entirely understand."

Jenna cut in, "Tell me about it." She said in a dry tone. "I don't understand a bit of what goes on in the Wizard Tower or the minds of the people that inhabit it."

"Neither do I but one need not understand everything about his significant other's interests in order to have a good relationship" Milo began before he was interrupted once more.

"Of course not, when the relationship is focused on sex." Jenna remarked acidly. Her comment caught her father off guard. As soon as the initial shock had worn off, a deep sadness filled his breast. His beautiful daughter was no longer as innocent as she looked. He had missed the period of her childhood in which she had doubtlessly been blissfully unaware of adult behaviors of any kind.

"But it wasn't," Milo insisted, "I was merely getting to know her. I thought she was quite charming but she simply saw nothing in her future but **magyk** while I pictured myself with a wife and a family. Our goals were not the same and therefore, as you can surely imagine, I didn't take our relationship that seriously because I knew it would not last. I was unaware, at the time, of the effect I had had on Marcia. It seems that, while I was casually courting her, she fell in love with me."

Jenna shook her head in disbelief, "Who told you that?"

"Cerys. Cerys was a very clever woman and she could understand what was in the hearts of other women by merely looking into their eyes."

"When did she ever see you with Marcia?"

"At the masquerade ball she held in the Palace Ballroom the night I met her. I recall that Marcia was quite excited when I asked her to attend it with me and I thought perhaps that she would choose me over her ambition to become the ExtraOrdinary Wizard after all. She looked so beautiful that night. She has all of those thick, delightful curls, you know and she had them pulled back into a-"

Jenna stamped her foot loudly and cleared her throat. Milo nodded, "Right, right, of course. We had quite a night, Marcia and I. We went to one of the nicer restaurants in the Ramblings and she was so elegant and charismatic that I began to wonder if I was falling in love with her in spite of myself. Oh but Jenna, the moment I walked into that Ballroom and saw your mother, I forgot the entire evening with Marcia. I doubt that I will ever see a woman that breathtaking again. Everyone was affected by her that evening, the air was electric and no one could even think straight because of her. Every man in that room wanted to be Cerys's husband and, the second I saw her, I was no exception."

Jenna attempted to reconstruct the scene in her mind. Queen Cerys was so reserved and quiet now that it was difficult for Jenna to imagine her as the belle of the ball that Milo was describing. Nonetheless, Jenna knew that she must have been or else her father would never have lost his heart to her so swiftly and suddenly. In spite of her best efforts to the contrary, Jenna felt a pang of sympathy for Marcia. "Did you speak with my mother that evening?"

"Oh yes, for quite some time. I suppose I got a bit carried away. I introduced Marcia to her and after I had become caught up in conversation, Marcia slipped away. I assumed she had gone to get a refreshment but after some time had passed, it became apparent that she had gone and I didn't really concern myself too much. Your mother did though. Your mother was always so thoughtful, Jenna. I could not resist the urge to ask her to dance. _What does one dance with the Queen of the Castle hurt?_, I thought, but when I proposed the idea to Cerys, she said 'What of that young woman who loves you?' and that was the first time it had ever occurred to me that Marcia did love me. I tried not to think about it though and the result was that I had one of the very best evenings of my life. It was years before I spoke to Marcia again after that. I would feel badly about what I did except that it all worked out for the best. She followed her dream and became a phenomenal ExtraOrdinary and I married the love of my life. You see, I think Marcia understands now that what we are currently engaging in is casual. She is too busy to pursue something more serious anyway. I speak to your mother in the evenings because she is and always will be the woman that I love. Marcia and I are just having a bit of fun, that's all."

Jenna was silent for a moment, still trying to take in all of the information with which her father had just provided her. "You really think that Marcia was all right with all of that?"

Milo shrugged, "She never told me otherwise."

Jenna shook her head. "That doesn't mean anything with her. I don't blame you though. Marcia is such a pain and she is quite weird most of the time."

Milo frowned, "You're too hard on Marcia. She cares about you and she knows that you don't think much of her. It rather hurts her feelings. I know it can be difficult for a young Queen to understand Wizards but it would behoove you to try."

Irritation rose in Jenna's breast, "I _have_. Marcia is impossible sometimes."

Milo decided it was time to change the subject. "Now that you have spent so much time probing me for information, I've got a question for you." Milo gave his daughter an affectionate glance. Jenna didn't look at him right away. Her mind was still on the look Cerys must have seen in Marcia's glittering emerald eyes when she realized that she had lost Milo, possibly forever. She shook herself.

"Yes, Milo?"

"Who has caught _your_ eye? Come now, I hear you singing in your bedchambers while you comb your hair and dancing about when you open your windows to let the sunshine in. Who is it? Who is the lucky young man?"

Unlike her father, Jenna succeeded in preventing a blush from rising to her already rosy cheeks, "Must a girl be in love if she sings in her bedroom and dances for the birds outside?" she asked coyly and a smile played at her lips.

"Perhaps not but you seem just a bit jollier than usual. I know so little of this kind of thing. I shouldn't be asking about it at all. Truly, you are my Queen and I, despite blood relation, am your subject. We should not discuss this topic if you find it distasteful." Milo looked at Jenna apologetically but she offered a reassuring grin in response.

"Don't be silly, Milo! As it happens, there is a young man. I've known him my whole life and yet, I feel that I never really knew him at all, not until this year. He was such a boy for years and this year I let him out of my sight for a month and he became a man, a respectable man who understands politics and has frequent meetings with the ExtraOrdinary Wizard and the Castle Alchemist. So often I can't believe that I never noticed what a gentleman he is."

Milo's smile became a broader with each word that passed from his daughter's lips. "You love Beetle, our Chief Hermetic Scribe! What a worthy man. I've no doubt that he loves you too. I imagine that he has for years. You are….well, so like Cerys. No man could resist you if he tried. If you make it known that you desire him, I'm certain that he will want for nothing else." Jenna had come to know her father well enough to know that an idea was forming in his mind. "I've got it! You shall have a masquerade ball, just as your mother did. Everyone in the Castle will be invited and there, by the end of the evening, you will be able to claim the Chief Hermetic Scribe for yourself. I will help you prepare. What do you think?"

Jenna was unable to disguise her elation. "Oh Milo, it is a brilliant idea! I love the idea of such a party. All of the people I love will be here." Jenna smiled at the thought. That was what she adored most about parties and balls. They were a time at which she could have everyone she loved near to her, if only for a brief time. She thought of Septimus. Aside from Beetle, she was looking forward to seeing him most of all. She wondered if he would bring Rose, the pretty Sick Bay apprentice with shiny chestnut hair, and scowled a bit at the thought. Jenna wasn't sure that she liked Rose very much though she had always been a bit indifferent to her before Septimus had taken such an interest in her. She turned her thoughts back to Beetle and shivered a little to think that, if all went well, she would soon be dancing in his arms in the middle of the gorgeous Palace Ballroom. Jenna giggled aloud, a sound that nearly brought tears of joy and delight to Milo's eyes. Jenna was angelic in Milo's eyes. Just as he could scarcely believe that Cerys had selected him to be her husband, he struggled to believe that he had had any part in creating Jenna. She was too perfect for him.

Jenna noticed that her father was fighting with his emotions and she daintily enveloped him in a warm embrace. "Let us begin planning this event tomorrow. You are a genius Milo." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as the clock in the sitting room struck four o'clock. "Goodness, it is late, isn't it? I should be off to bed. I've got things to do tomorrow, as ever. Thank you, Milo, for all that you told me."

"It was my pleasure, Sweetheart. Sleep well." Jenna gave her father's hand a squeeze and started up the grand staircase that led to her bedchambers. As she turned the corner that led into the long hallway upstairs, Milo was treated to the sound of his daughter singing happily as she disappeared from sight.

xxx

A quarter of an hour later, Jenna was lying in her bed with the satin blankets pulled tightly around her, still too excited at the prospect of the masquerade ball to sleep. She was in a bit of trance, in that sweet, confused state that one experiences when he is on the verge of sleep but has not yet allowed it to take him completely. She was thinking of Beetle. In her trancelike state, she could see flashes of his beautiful dark hair and deep brown eyes, filled with an intense passion for her alone. He was smiling at her. Jenna smiled as well and extended her tiny hand forward, as though he might grasp it. As she did this, she was startled by a voice that was absolutely unlike Beetle's.

"Jenna," the voice called, "Jenna, you must listen to me."

Jenna jumped and lost the image of Beetle entirely but she did not scream in shock. The voice belonged to her mother, Queen Cerys. Jenna suppressed a sigh of irritation. Couldn't Cerys see that she was ready to sleep? Couldn't she have the courtesy to leave her to her dreams? Blearily, Jenna focused her tired eyes on the just visible form of her mother's ghost. "Yes, Mama?" In spite of the fact that she was sure that her mother was there with her, she felt as though her trance had not yet entirely worn off. It was a bizarre sensation indeed.

"I am glad to see that you are becoming closer to your father at last. It is a very rewarding thing to watch."

Jenna cringed a little. She didn't approve of the fact that her mother had been spying on the conversation she had had with her father. Even though Cerys had been Milo's wife, it had been a private conversation. As much as her mother's actions irked her, Jenna couldn't say that she was surprised by them. After all, this was the woman who had refused to tell her where the key to the Golden Pyramid that crowned the Wizard Tower was located in a life or death situation. Jenna knew her mother well enough now to know that everything was on her terms. "Yes, Milo and I have much more in common than I initially believed." Jenna replied, hoping that she sounded "Queeny" enough. It wasn't often that she doubted herself anymore but something about her mother made her feel as though she was still a child, unsure of how to rule properly. It seemed as though her mother was always judging her and, despite what Jenna frequently said the contrary, she did want Cerys to approve of her decisions as Queen.

A slight smile played across Cerys's lips that made Jenna instantly feel relieved. She _had_ said the right thing after all. "My dear, your father is a good man but he is misguided and he was not as honest with you as he could have been."

Jenna frowned, confused. "What do you mean, Mama?" she asked, careful to remember to call her mother by the name that she preferred.

Cerys did not look into her daughter's eyes, but she answered her question immediately. "I have seen Milo with Marcia and he is more taken with her than he indicated. I know that you, understandably, are not Marcia's greatest...supporter and because of that, he may have tried to conceal a bit of his affection from you. He doesn't love her though. Do not concern yourself, child. That is not the reason that we must speak."

_Then what is it?_ Jenna wanted to yell. She hated her mother's ambiguous mind games. It seemed as though Cerys was never straightforward about anything. However, she succeeded in biting her tongue long enough for Cerys to continue. "Daughter," she started, in a haughty tone that really annoyed Jenna, "didn't you ever wonder why the Supreme Custodian and his followers didn't kill Marcia after she escaped the assassin on the day that I was so cruelly murdered?"

Jenna shook her head, "Of course not. Mum always told me that the Custodians told everyone that Alther had retired and that you were not well after the birth of your child. They never told anyone in the Castle that there had been an assassination at all. I suppose that they could have pursued Marcia but it would have made their intentions obvious. They had to be subtle until they could find out where Marcia had hidden me."

Cerys laughed in amusement and that sound, which would have been charming under other circumstances, unsettled Jenna somewhat. "But, my dear, within six months, everyone knew what had become of me and of poor Alther but the people of the Castle are peaceful, you know that. They didn't want to fight the custodians and they could not see a purpose in doing so. Many of them believed that you, like Alther and me, were dead. If they were to wage war on the custodians, it would be futile. They could not save the royal line now and the majority of them aren't the sort of people who fight out of righteous anger. I think a number of them worried for Marcia, in fact. Those who still had hope that you were alive believed-rightly of course-that Marcia had hidden you from the world and from the custodians. They thought it would only be a matter of time before the Custodians tortured Marcia for information on your whereabouts. After all, everyone was aware of what they had done to Alther. It seemed only natural that they would approach Marcia next. They were trying to eradicate the Castle of **magyk ** after all."

Jenna paused, realizing that what her mother said was true. "I always did wonder why the Custodians never questioned Marcia during those ten years that I was hidden. They had to know that she knew where I was."

Cerys nodded, "Naturally. They couldn't question her though. Their leader forbid it."

An expression of surprise flashed across Jenna's face. "You mean DomDaniel? But why?"

Cerys drew nearer to Jenna and placed her ghostly hand on top of her daughter's. Jenna dared not move for fear that she might pass through her mother. In fact, for some reason that she was unable to articulate, she felt as though even breathing at this moment would be impossible. "Jenna, Marcia Overstrand's jealousy brought about my death. When Milo rejected her, Marcia was inconsolable. It was hardly my fault that he became infatuated with me but Marcia didn't see it that way. She started studying all manner of **darke **topics behind Alther's back and used a **darke **method of some form-I don't understand it entirely-to contact DomDaniel and inform him that I was to have a baby Princess and that, if he wanted to destroy the royal line, he must do so immediately. Alther had apparently frequently told her that DomDaniel was still very much alive and likely to return at some point in the Castle's history. Marcia was willing to help him destroy the royal line as long as he did nothing to harm the Wizards in return. DomDaniel, for his part, assured her that he wouldn't."

"But he did," Jenna noted, "He murdered Alther right in front of her. Alther always used to tell me that Marcia was mad with grief even while it was happening. He said that he had never seen her cry like that. Aside from that, Marcia is petrified of **darke **stuff. That is what makes her a weaker Wizard than Sep. Sep always uses **magyk **and **darke **in a perfect balance. Marcia only relies on her natural **magykal ** ability. She would have been too afraid to mess with the **darke.**"

Cerys's patience had grown thin, "Do not disrespect me, Daughter! You are passing judgments before you have even heard the entire story. You are more willing to believe accounts by Wizards than you are to believe your mother! That is shameful. A wise Queen listens first and then judges."

Jenna would have escalated this disagreement with her mother but she recalled that her late Aunt Zelda had once said those very words, "A wise Queen listens first, then she judges." Jenna knew that she had to at least let her mother finish her story, however mad it seemed. "I'm sorry, Mama. You are right."

As quickly as it had arrived, Cerys's anger disappeared. "DomDaniel did indeed reassure Marcia that no Wizards would be harmed but he had no intention of keeping his promise. DomDaniel was never exactly known for keeping bargains and, now that he had gained the information that he wanted from Marcia, he intended to turn on her and murder not only me and my tiny daughter but her and Alther as well on the day that you were born. Needless to say, Marcia realized this when the assassin arrived in the Throne Room but it was too late then. She did try to save you then, probably because you were Milo's child and seeing you at last reminded her that you were as much his as you were mine. She was petrified of **darke magyk **after that. Alther forgave her for what she did. I don't understand how but Wizards are fools and I struggle to understand anything that they do at all. Marcia always felt as though she had killed Alther and that **darke magyk **had caused her to do so. She never touched it again after that even though, as you so rightly said, small doses of it are useful. I doubt if she ever felt a bit of remorse toward me, however. If Milo had not fathered you, she would have left you to die too. The Custodians didn't hurt Marcia in the years following that because DomDaniel had informed them that he had a "plan" for her. I assume that he wanted to torture her to death in some hideous fashion. I'm glad he didn't though. Had he succeeded, I would never have had the chance that I now have, the chance to exact my _own_ revenge. Jenna," Cerys gulped, as she always did when she pronounced the name that the Heaps had selected for her daughter, "Marcia robbed me of my life and now she is trying to enjoy the man who should have been mine forever. As my daughter, you have a duty to me. I know that we have had our difficulties in the past but we do love one another, don't we? There is a reason that you instinctively distrust Marcia and there is more to it than the fact that Wizards and Queens do not often agree. After all, you get on well with that Heap boy, do you not?"

Ordinarily, Jenna would have shouted, "He is my brother!" in reply but now, she was too shocked to speak. All that her mother had told her made a sick kind of sense to her. She nodded in agreement. "Yes." She managed. "Oh….oh Mama, I _am _ sorry." This time, Jenna meant it. "I am so, so sorry. She stole….she stole everything from you, didn't she?" Sadness and an anger such as she had never known before began to rise in her breast, "What can I do, Mama? Why did Alther just accept her after that? I cannot trust her. Something must be done. If Milo knew, he would have nothing to do with her."

Cerys sighed sadly, "Jenna, dear, if you tried talking to anyone but Alther about it, they wouldn't believe you and Alther…..well, people do mad things for their children. Look at the way in which Sarah and Silas forgave Simon for his misdeeds. Alther loved Marcia as his own child. It is really the same. There is a solution though."

"What is it?" Jenna asked eagerly.

"You" her mother replied simply. "You are the solution, Jenna. Marcia trusts you. As I understand it, she has even developed an….affection for you or some type or other. No doubt that makes her feel that much guiltier about her monstrous deed. This is what I ask of you. Visit her. Tell her you wish to speak to her privately and then end her life with this." To Jenna's amazement, the ghost of Queen Cerys **caused **an object to move. She picked up the object with what little strength she had and placed it in her daughter's outstretched palm.

Jenna examined the object closely. It was the most beautiful knife she had ever seen. It was edged with gold and, at the tip of the handle was a bit of lapis that resembled the lapis lazuli that lined the Akhu Amulet that all ExtraOrdinary Wizards were required to wear. Jenna was dumbfounded. "What is this?" she asked.

Cerys groaned, as though Jenna were intentionally being slow. "It is what you must use to rid the Castle of Marcia Overstrand. No ExtraOrdinary Wizard that has betrayed a Queen should be allowed to remain in power. There have been times in the past when an ExtraOrdinary Wizard did not agree with the manner in which the Queen ruled and they always regretted it. This knife was made specifically for the purpose of ridding the Castle of incompetent ExtraOrdinary Wizards. They must be killed by the Queen- that is the only proper way to destroy them. The Queen always cuts the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's throat. That is tradition and that is what you must do. It is a shame to have to use this knife once more, but that is its purpose and it has not carried out its purpose in hundreds of years. ExtraOrdinaries do tend to forget that they are not the true leaders of the Castle."

Jenna shuddered and fought the urge to burst into tears of shock and horror at the thought of what her mother was asking of her. "You mean that Queens have done this in the past? You want me to sneak into Marcia's rooms and cut her throat like a pig? Mama, I cannot."

"If you are a worthy Queen, you will." Her mother's voice was frigid, merciless. "It is your duty. You have a corrupt ExtraOrdinary in the Wizard Tower. You must kill her first. Only then can you tell others why. The people will accept what you have done. It is the Queen's right to have vengeance when they have been treated badly by the Wizards who are, after all, their subjects. The people of the Castle who have studied history know that this has been done before. No one will harm you, Jenna. You are doing what is right. I shall be so proud of you."

Jenna exhaled sharply and her eyes filled with tears. She thought of Septimus and how much he loved Marcia. He would never forgive her if she did this.

"Your apprentice boy, Septimus, will forgive you once he knows the truth." Cerys said dismissively, as though they were discussing the weather rather than planning the death of one of the Castle's most respected dignitaries. It totally unnerved Jenna that her mother had known exactly what she was thinking but Cerys sounded so calm that she began to think that she was right. After all, Marcia had done the ultimate wrong and Septimus was currently unaware of that. Once he knew the truth, perhaps he would see things differently after all.

"All right, Mama." She said softly, recalling the words Cerys had just said "I shall be so proud of you." Jenna realized at once that that was what she wanted more than anything. She wanted her mother's approval, her mother's love. What Marcia had done was undeniably evil and she needed to be held accountable. "I won't disappoint you." Jenna muttered, essaying to keep her voice from trembling.

Cerys smiled, "I know that you won't, Daughter. I'll leave you to rest now. You've a lot to think about. Focus now on the young man that loves you. You will know when the time has arrived for you to carry out your duty. You shall do it swiftly and proceed with your life. Do not be afraid."

Jenna didn't think it was possible not to be afraid but she nodded anyway, still too stunned to speak.

"Good night, my dear." Cerys said quietly and then she faded away, leaving Jenna to wonder whether what she had just experienced had even been real. Was she dreaming? Jenna stood up and glanced around the room, her thoughts of the masquerade ball long forgotten. She wanted to talk to someone about this, but whom? She could tell no one, her mother had said. It was true that Jenna had been less than fond of Marcia during the last few years but she had never even thought of harming her. As Jenna's eyes flitted about the room, they finally fell on the old dresser opposite her bed. On the dresser, was, she knew, among other items of importance, the gold ring that had belonged to the first Queen. For years, it has been the two faced ring that had caused everyone in the Castle so much grief but now, it was no more than a beautiful piece of gold, just as it had been when Hotep-Ra, the first ExtraOrdinary Wizard, had lived in the Tower. Marcia had given it to her for her coronation. The memory made Jenna's eyes sting once again but she brushed all emotion to one side. Marcia was a deceptive monster. It was time to replace her with someone more competent and avenge her mother's name. There could be no turning back now.

xxx

The news that the young Queen was to have a masquerade ball spread like wildfire throughout the entire Castle. The young men were especially excited. They thought that the occurrence of the ball might be an indication that Queen Jenna was searching for a husband. The citizens of the Castle enjoyed an excuse to celebrate and there was scarcely anyone who wasn't anticipating the evening of the ball. Even Larry, the irritable owner of Larry's Dead Languages, had gotten a new suit and asked Dandra Draa, the newest attendant in the Wizard Tower Sick Bay, to attend to event with him. Everyone in the Castle was invited and no doubt the majority of them would go. Therefore, when the day of the ball at last arrived, there was a buzz of excitement throughout the city. One individual who was not really affected enormously by said buzz was Syrah Syara. Syrah was tending her garden in the Ramblings when she heard a sharp knock on the door. She smirked to herself. There was only one person in the world that could be. She decided that her balcony garden could wait a bit longer and she went to answer the door.

"Syrah!" her visitor exclaimed excitedly before throwing her arms tightly around her, "Today is the day! Aren't you excited?"

"Of course, Rose. Why wouldn't I be?"

Syrah's guest, Rose, the pretty Sick Bay apprentice, frowned. "You don't sound excited. Come on, Syrah, it will do you good to get out. You've been in here for days."

Syrah smiled wistfully at her friend, "I get out enough. There is just so much to read here. But I'm going. I promised Hildegarde that I would go and I wouldn't dare back out of my promise to her."

Rose laughed, "No, I don't imagine that you would. What time is Hildegarde coming to pick you up?"

"Oh I don't know. Seven fifteen, I believe is the time I gave her. It has been so long since I discussed this with her."

Rose was unable to hide her smile of amusement and Syrah was struck, as always, by how lovely her friend was. When she had first awoken from the **disenchantment ** process, Syrah had felt so confused and alone. She had spoken strictly to the ghost of her old mentor, Julius Pike, and to Rose during the weeks following the day she awoke. Julius was a comfort to her for a while until she came to the conclusion that talking so frequently about the past was only prolonging her illness and that she needed to move forward. Rose, on the other hand, had been a true comfort to her since she had recovered. With her loving heart and warm personality, Rose had given Syrah the strength to emerge from her dark, unhappy state and learn that she could, in fact, function in this Time. In many ways, she now preferred it to her own. She had certainly never had a friend like Rose in her Time. Syrah didn't understand how anyone could dislike Rose. She was always positive and upbeat and her energy was contagious. Syrah was already beginning to develop a tingle of excitement about the evening, just from being near Rose. She looked up and noticed Rose's amused expression. Rose had the biggest smile that Syrah had ever seen. It was as sweet and warm as her personality and Syrah distinctly got the impression that Rose would be capable of healing even the most wounded of souls.

Rose interrupted Syrah's thoughts. "You don't even know when your girlfriend is coming? Don't try to tell me that Hildegarde hasn't been talking about this for months, I know that she has. I live at the Tower, you know. She was especially excited about going with you. I've always told you that you've got charisma. Why were you never sure that Hildegarde liked you? It was obvious to everyone but you."

"Well, everyone seemed to believe that she had developed an interest in that mad sailor, Milo Banda, until he set his sights on Madam Marcia. I didn't want to claim what wasn't mine. Aside from that, I wasn't certain about Hildegarde then. I found her attractive, yes, but we have such different beliefs….I didn't know how much it would effect us."

"And has it effected you?" Rose asked.

"Only a bit. I imagined that it would be worse than it actually is."

That radiant smile made another appearance as Rose said, "Typical" and set about trying to tame Syrah's wild dark hair. "You've got such pretty hair." Rose commented, "I don't know why you don't do more with it."

Syrah shook her head. "I don't go out much anymore, you know that. I haven't got a reason to put it up or do something fancy with it."

"Oh but you don't need a reason. It is just fun sometimes." Syrah wasn't surprised by this response. She knew that Rose was always experimenting with new looks for her long, rich, chestnut hair. Her hair was a whole shade lighter than Syrah's and Syrah found it more exciting. Rose's hair reflected many lovely colors as the late afternoon sun danced across it. Rose herself was, as ever, oblivious to how lovely she looked.

Syrah closed her eyes and allowed Rose to play with her hair, trusting her to make it look flattering. "So," she began casually, "you and Septimus are official now?"

Rose, clearly unprepared for this question, blushed. "I suppose you could say that. He is very kind, Syrah. I know that you don't remember him well but he saved you on the Isles of **Syren**. Truly, I am surprised that he ever moved past you. He was quite taken with you, you know."

"Yes," Syrah said, a bit sharply. She _did _know. What she couldn't understand is why Septimus had spent such a great deal of time pining after her when he could have had Rose the entire time. Syrah was not unaware of the fact that she was considered attractive, even beautiful, by most people that encountered her but she did not possess that spark that she saw in Rose. She did not understand how Septimus could have ignored such a spark for so long but then, she did not understand much of what Septimus did or valued. In order to keep from hurting Rose's feelings though, she said, "I'll do my best to get to know him better. Perhaps tonight is a good time. I am grateful to him for all that he did for me."

Rose beamed. "That sounds wonderful. You know, I think so much of you and Hildegarde. I think that the four of us are going to have a grand time together. Now, have a look."

Syrah glanced into their mirror. Her long dark hair was pulled back into an elegant twist that exhibited her lovely throat. Rose had tied diamonds into her hair that complimented the silver dress she would be wearing for the occasion. She whistled in disbelief. "You're a genius, you know that don't you?"

Rose giggled, "Of course, I do." She said playfully. "Someone has to help you with that. It is such a waste. You have all of that beautiful hair and yet you do nothing with it."

Syrah was still staring into the glass, wondering what Hildegarde would have to say about her appearance. "Thank you, Rose," she said, giving her friend's hand a squeeze. "It really is perfect."

"Good. Now I've got to do mine. I told Septimus to pick me up here at seven so when he arrives, we shall all wait for Hildegarde."

Syrah glanced at the clock on the wall. "We've got a bit of time then." She hesitated and then asked the question that had been heavy on every Castle resident's mind since the ball had been announced. "Do you think she has found one?"

Rose was puzzled and a bit distracted, inquired, "Found what?"

Syrah was patient. "The Queen. Do you think she has her eyes on someone? Has she found a consort?"

Rose nodded passionately. "Septimus has told me a bit about that. He seems to really think that she has feelings for the Chief Hermetic Scribe. You know, the nice boy, Beetle. Most of the people who've mentioned it to me seem to think they'll be engaged by this time tomorrow. That is so bizarre to me. She's only fifteen. I know that isn't that unusual for Queens but it seems so young."

"Doesn't it though? You couldn't pay me to be Queen. I imagine she has lost so much freedom. There are so many expectations for her." Syrah thought of Queen Jenna. She always seemed so put together, so perfect. She was, in Syrah's opinion, like a porcelain doll, tiny, gorgeous, and cold. Though she had heard from others that Jenna had been kind and playful once, Syrah could not picture it. The young woman had grown into her role as Queen so efficiently that she seemed far older than her fifteen years. As Syrah was attracted to women, she could see why people would appreciate Queen Jenna from an aesthetic standpoint but she herself preferred a bit less perfection. She desired the company of a real woman, like Hildegarde, who was less intimidating rather than a doll that might break under harsh conditions.

Some time later, Syrah and Rose admired one another's dresses. Rose's was a blue velvet dress that clung to every curve of her figure and transformed her appearance from that of a pretty young girl to that of a stunning woman. Around her neck, she wore a pearl that Syrah knew she wore due to her love of the sea and all things related to it. Her chestnut hair fell demurely past her shoulders. Syrah's figure was slightly less voluptuous but her silver dress complimented her thin, petite frame and Rose's tricks with her hair left her looking impressive indeed.

"Oh," Rose sighed, "We look grown, don't we?" A brief expression of sadness seeped into Rose's green eyes. "We are grown now, aren't we?"

Syrah nodded. "Yes but that doesn't mean we have to become adults. I don't want to be an adult if it means that we must be frigid and serious all of the time. What is the point of living at all when you insist on being that way?"

Rose's smile returned and Syrah was relieved. "You're right. What was I thinking?" She turned to Syrah and embraced her warmly. "Tonight will be a night to remember."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Septimus." Rose said, and with a final glance in the mirror, she walked toward the door to greet him.

xxx

The ballroom was covered in gold. One would have thought, on first glance, that Marcellus Pye, the Castle Alchemist, had designed it himself. Rose, Syrah, and Hildegarde were all taken aback by the splendor of the ballroom and even, Septimus, who had seen it many times, had to admit that it was quite impressive. Syrah felt a sense of freedom as she entered the room. Here, she could do what she loved to do best-observe people from a distance. No one would know that it was her doing the watching either, as they were all wearing masks. Half the fun of a masquerade ball was trying to guess who was hiding behind each of the elaborate masks. Some were obvious, others much less so. She was easily able to pick out Marcellus in his extreme gold suit and bizarre shoes and Simon Heap and his wife, Lucy, who were standing beside him. Simon and Lucy had just had a baby and things were finally looking up for them. Simon had become Marcellus's apprentice just the year before and was doing extraordinarily. When she passed by them, she noticed that Lucy and Simon were standing as close as they possibly could to one another, as though they couldn't get enough of each other. Syrah was perplexed. She had come to fancy many women in her time but she had never known a love as passionate as Simon and Lucy's seemed to be. She felt an ache of something akin to loneliness begin to fill her core and she had to focus her attention on some other scene.

Rose was dancing with Septimus, who was holding her tightly and whirling her about in the center of the floor until she felt dizzy. Her excitement was uncontrollable. Was this what love was like? She didn't know. All she did know was that she had never before been so happy. After three consecutive dances, Septimus excused himself to get a refreshment and temporarily left his date to her own devices.

Septimus Heap looked quite handsome that evening. His long, straw colored hair had been neatly combed and his bright green eyes made his identity obvious to most partygoers. It was made even more obvious as, on his way to the refreshment table, a tall woman with a mass of ebony curls, an exquisite purple mask lined with golden glitter, and undoubtedly the most bizarre shoes at the party addressed him by saying, " Do stop making such a _scene_ with Rose, Septimus!" much to his embarrassment.

On her own, Rose decided to walk to edge of the ballroom to inspect the golden designs on the wall. As she neared them, she determined that they were tiny golden fairies. She smiled with delight and drew closer to them. As she reached out to the touch them, another hand reached forward and grasped her. Rose nearly screamed but bit her tongue just in time and turned her attention to the young man standing in front of her. He was covered in black. His hair was dark and his mask was entirely black with few embellishments on it. His suit was entirely black and Rose was able to tell that he was extremely thin but not in a terrible way. She didn't pull her hand away, as she ought to have. Instead, she found his eyes and looked into them. She wasn't surprised by what she saw. They too, were dark but there was a depth in them that surprised her. Slowly, as if unsure of his current course of action, the young man bent forward and kissed Rose's delicate, long fingers. She had no idea who he was. She felt that she would go mad with curiosity if she didn't speak but he did so first. "You don't know me." He said, quietly, "But I know you. I came here tonight so that I could…." He paused, as though struggling with some feeling inside himself at which Rose could only guess. Even without being able to see his face, Rose could tell that he was losing his nerve. She was right. The young man released her hand and still spluttering, started to back away from her. Instinctively, Rose stepped forward and grasped his hand in hers. She could see surprise in his eyes.

"Don't be afraid." She said, soothingly. "Tell me, what is it? Why did you come? Who are you?"

The young man shook his head frantically. "I can't tell you that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I told you, you don't know me. I only know you. I just had to see you one more time. I've been watching you all night. I just….I guess I can't help myself. I would never have come back to this place at all if it weren't for you. This is all a huge mistake. I knew it would be." Rose could hear in his tone that he was trying to be strong and failing. She was intrigued.

"Please, tell me who you are. I'm sure I remember you. I remember everyone I've met, I promise."

The young man tore away from her. "You wouldn't want to remember me." He said sharply. "I need to leave and you do too. I've done what I came to do. I've….I…kissed you."

Rose tried to disagree with him when she heard Septimus calling her name. To her surprise, she found that she wished he were still at the refreshment table. She wanted a few more moments with this stranger, if only to learn his name. She turned to face Septimus, preparing to explain how she and the stranger had met but when she turned back to look at young man in black, she found that he had vanished. For the remainder of the evening, Rose felt a mixture of curiosity and emptiness in the pit of her stomach and, try as she might, she could no longer entirely focus on her evening with Septimus, despite the fact that she found him charming.

Meanwhile, as the party was reaching a fevered pitch in the ballroom, Jenna was in the midst of an intense conversation with Beetle on the Palace Balcony. There was a red velvet sofa on the Balcony and it was upon this sofa surrounded by the balcony's rose bushes that Jenna was now seated. Her legs were curled beneath her body and she was gazing up at Beetle. He eyes were twinkling and she seemed to have thoughts only of him. Beetle wanted to pinch himself to make certain that he was still alive. Jenna finally loved him! A year earlier, if someone had informed him that he would become the Chief Hermetic Scribe and win the love of Queen Jenna, he would never have believed it. Now, though, after years of living in the shadow of his best friend, Septimus, Beetle had finally come into his own and he was ready to pursue yet another one of his dreams. He cleared his throat slightly, "Jenna," he started, "thank you for such a wonderful evening. You really do throw the most amazing parties." Beetle paused, realizing that he sounded a bit silly and that Jenna looked as though she were going to laugh at any second. "But I have to ask, how much of this did Milo plan? It seems a bit grand, even for you."

Jenna smirked. "He was….helpful in making preparations."

Beetle chuckled. "I see. Good to know." There was another silence in which only the sound of crickets could be heard. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence but rather a peaceful one. Beetle directed his attention to the night sky above him. When he turned back to Jenna, his eyes were serious. "Jenna, I think you know what I want to ask you about. I…I guess I don't know exactly what you feel for me, if anything, but I want to confess that I…I have loved you unconditionally since the day we met. It was so long ago now. God, it must have been four years ago. I was nearly fourteen and you were just a kid. Remember that nasty Placement DomDaniel set up?"

Jenna shuddered. How could she forget what it was like to touch those horrible bones?

"Well, Jenna, that day, I kept calling you Princess and when we were up in Sep's bedroom, you asked me to call you Jenna. I never in my wildest dreams thought that you would be so…so modest. Here you were, heir to the throne with enormous responsibilities ahead of you and yet you wanted to be seen as equal to everyone else. You didn't think you were superior-ever. I had never met a girl like you. I was always amazed by your courage and strength. When we went on the **Queste**, you were always thinking of all of the things Sep and I were too silly to think of because you're more clever than both of us combined!" Beetle grinned, getting lost in his memories. "And when we were stuck on the Isles of **Syren **and spent all of that time together, I just wanted to tell you so badly that I loved you. I was afraid it was obvious, as though someone had written Beetle loves Jenna on my forehead in strawberry jam." He paused, embarrassed and Jenna reassured him by laughing out loud and reaching for his hand. He took hers in his and squeezed it tightly. "I…I never thought that you'd love me. I didn't consider it to be even a vague possibility. I always felt so ordinary. I also knew that a Queen could never marry a man with no status living a hand to mouth existence with his mother in the Ramblings." Beetle's voice faltered and Jenna squeezed his hand again, this time in sympathy. "I became jealous and bitter after I got fired from the Manuscriptorium. I knew then that I'd never have you but I couldn't stop dreaming. I didn't even think you loved me. You know, the best part about becoming Chief Hermetic Scribe was that at last I had a job that would befit the husband of the Queen. It didn't matter to me though because I thought that you didn't think much about me. My job didn't make much of a difference. Now I know better. Jenna, I've come here to ask you…well, I'm not the best with words but I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone and I only love you more each day." As Beetle spoke, he drew a beautiful gold ring from his pocket and, although Jenna had expected it, she gasped in delight. "Will you be my wife? I'll take care of you and be your partner in every aspect of life. I'll be the best father that I can be to our children. I'll…I'll…" Beetle, so lost in his passion, hadn't realized that Jenna's eyes were filled with tears. His voice trailed off and sadness stole over him. "What is wrong? Have I said something?"

Jenna did her best to wipe the tears away. "No, no, it isn't that. It is just everything that I dreamed it would be and more. Oh Beetle, yes…_yes._" Jenna pulled Beetle down so that his face was level with hers and she pressed his lips to his. Shocked, Beetle took a second to register what had happened before he returned her kiss. His luck was incredible.

When she pulled away, he asked, tentatively, "So that's it then? You want to marry me."

"Yes, Beetle. I could never do better and I'm not going to let you get away from me." Beetle, so moved by her words, pulled her into an embrace. They sat there together for some time, smiling and whispering sweet nothings to one another. They heard the ballroom behind them grow quiet and knew that the party was dying. It didn't matter to them. The world had shrunk to just the two of them that evening and that was all that they needed.

An hour after everyone had gone, Jenna said, "It is quite late. Do you think you want to stay over? We've got lots of rooms and I'd love it if you did."

Beetle shook his head regretfully. "I've got to meet Marcia at nine in the morning. If I didn't, I'd be right here, with you, all night long." He smiled at Jenna and leaned in to kiss her when he realized that something was wrong. "What is it, Jenna? You look upset."

The mention of Marcia had set Jenna on edge. She remembered her promise to her mother that she wouldn't reveal her plan to Beetle. She wanted to so badly but she knew he wouldn't understand. He still trusted Marcia and she didn't want to convince Beetle that she was crazy on the first night of their engagement. Her mother had promised that the people of the Castle would accept her necessary action after it had been carried out and she believed her. After all, talking to Beetle about it would only make her doubt what Cerys had said and, irksome though her mother could be at times, she was sure that she hadn't lied to her, not about something that important. She sighed, "Nothing, Beetle, I just don't want you to go."

"I'll be back tomorrow, Jenna, love, and we'll tell everyone that we're going to get married!" The joy in this statement washed away any of Jenna's thoughts about Marcia and she fell into Beetle's arms for a final kiss that Beetle knew he would feel on his lips until they met again.

xxx

The following morning, Beetle was walking toward the Wizard Tower when he heard a great commotion in the streets. He didn't think much of it as his thoughts were still on Jenna and the unbelievable fact that they were now engaged to be married. He couldn't even begin to think of all that that meant, all that it implied. He would have her forever. In his giddy state, Beetle accidently bumped into Milo Banda who was standing in the middle of Wizard Way. Beetle was surprised. He had suspected that Milo had been with Marcia late the evening before and it came as a shock to him that he was already wide awake and in the street. "Watch where you're going! Oh Beetle, hello!" His expression softened. "Jenna told me the news. I am so, so pleased. I couldn't have picked a better man myself."

Beetle flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Banda. I will do all that I can to make her happy, I promise you."

Milo smiled, "No need, son. You already do make her happy. Now, where are you heading off to in such a hurry? Won't you stay? The employees of Gothyk Grotto are about to put on a bit of a show for us here. I've been hearing that it is quite good and I think it would be a fun time for us."

Beetle hesitated. Watching a show did sound like a fun activity but he knew that Marcia would be furious if he was late and, after so recently attaining so much of her trust, he had no desire to lose it. "I would Milo but Marcia is waiting and you know how that is."

Milo shot Beetle a coy grin, "Marcia will be in a good mood this morning. Tell her that I detained you, that I insisted you watch the performance. We aren't the only ones. Look." Milo gestured across the crowd that had gathered in the middle of the street to where Marcellus Pye and his apprentice, Simon Heap, were standing. Beetle wasn't surprised to see them there.

Beetle laughed, "No offense, Mr. Banda, but I don't think that telling Marcia that they were here will make her feel any better about it."

"Maybe you're right. Just tell her I kept you then. You need a bit of fun every now and then, Beetle. It is good for you."

Beetle didn't need much persuading. He already felt too happy to work that morning and he was all too pleased to stay. "All right. I think that will work."

Milo slapped him on the back, "There's a good lad!" he said just as the crowd began to hush and the show commenced.

Igor, the proprietor of Gothyk Grotto, had begun to run out of money and, because he loved his store deeply, he had known that finding a new, more efficient method of earning money was the necessary course of action. Thus, he had invented the idea that his employees travel about the Castle putting on shows in the hours of the morning before the store opened in order to boost the store's notoriety. The show began with an acrobatic act by Marcus and Matt Marwick but this was not the act that anyone who watched the show discussed after it. Although the boys were undoubtedly impressive, the second and final act was the one that was inspiring the residents of the Castle to speak frequently about Igor's show.

Milo and Beetle beheld the Marwick brothers' double act with amusement but a bit of bewilderment too. Just as Beetle was about to proclaim that the show was "a bit weird." There was a rumble of drums and a thick cloud of black smoke appeared on the stage. From within the cloud of smoke, a young girl emerged.

It is impossible to describe the appearance of this girl and do her justice in words. She was exquisitely beautiful. She was not tall but the way that she carried herself and danced about the stage made her appear to be so. She had a voluptuous figure, cheeks like cherries, and skin like ivory. Her long, thick red hair fell halfway down her back and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. There was a bright innocence in those eyes that the crowd, in spite of themselves, could not resist. Milo stepped involuntarily away from the stage, muttering, "She's a witch!" After a moment, of standing inert, watching the young girl dance before them and sing a tune in a voice so lovely that every heart in the crowd was moved, Beetle realized that he knew her.

"Milo!" he gasped, "It is Marissa, the girl who joined both the Port Witch Coven and the Wendron Witch Coven before she moved to the Castle. She works at the grotte now! I don't know how I forgot. She always had such an interest in Jojo Heap. Sometimes, I think she's got an interest in everyone though. Just a few months ago, she was paying attention to me-"

But Milo Banda was not listening. Beetle glanced at his future father in law just in time to see Marissa holding his hand. She had paused in her dancing and had apparently selected him as her special guest to whom she would sing the most beautiful of her songs. It _was_ beautiful, all about fleeting youth and the madness of love that makes every person in the world tremble both with ecstasy and pain. As she finished, almost everyone in the crowd had been brought to tears. Milo brought Marissa's hand to his lips and thanked her. She was suddenly self conscious and informed him that she had to go at once. Beetle noticed that Jojo Heap was standing on the edge of the crowd with his brother, Nicko. Jojo's expression betrayed his disgust and Nicko's indicated his utter delight at the scene he had just witnessed. Beetle felt ready to leave. Everyone had been so affected by Marissa's stunning beauty and charm. It unsettled him for some reason and he made his best effort not to look her in the eyes. However, oddly enough, he felt her piercing blue eyes on him and, unfortunately, even he was not able to resist them forever. When he knew that she would not stop looking, he finally glanced up and their eyes met. Marissa was standing near the Marwick boys, preparing to return to Gothyk Grotto. When Beetle's eyes met hers, she smiled. It was perhaps the prettiest smile that Beetle had ever seen. Beetle shuddered and looked away. There was something wrong with Marissa. _No single woman should be as tempting as she is, _he thought_, it isn't right!_ "Come on, Milo," he said urgently, "Let's go. I've got to go and see Marcia and you have to come with me to tell her that you kept me here longer than I ought to have stayed. The show wasn't even good anyway." It almost hurt to say those last words because they were blatantly untrue but Beetle felt better about himself for having said them.

Milo shook his head. "You go on ahead." He said, "I want to stay here. Marcia will understand." He sounded distracted and completely disinterested. Just as Beetle was about to try another tactic to get Milo to come to the Wizard Tower with him, there was a gasp from one of the women who had been assembled during Gothyk Grotto production. "Look," she cried, and then she glanced in Beetle's direction with what was almost an accusatory stare, "that girl! That _witch_! She has written _Beetle_ in the dirt!"

It was true. There, on the dirty pavement, Marissa had written his name. Beetle felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He suddenly forgot all about Milo Banda. All he knew was that he wanted to get away from Wizard Way and quickly. "I have to go." He said and started off down the street, well aware that Milo Banda was giving him one of the nastiest looks that he had ever received from anyone.

Beetle was relieved when at last he reached the shelter of the Wizard Tower but sadly, his relief did not last long. "Beetle," an unmistakable voice called from across the Great Hall, "Beetle, where _have _you been?" Beetle groaned. It was going to be a long morning indeed.

AN-Thank you again for reading! Next chapter, we will focusing more on some characters that we didn't focus on in this chapter. Everyone has twisted little secrets in my fics and we are going to uncover them all. :) I promise that it will all tie together. I have a big plan for this story.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hello everyone! Sorry it was more like a week and a half than a week. I will be more prompt about updates from now on. I had some distractions this week. I just want to say up front that your reviews were AMAZING. I hope that I got back to you about all of them but I will check to make sure that I did. You were all so thoughtful and left really in depth, observant comments. I think that I have some of the best readers around and I really mean that. Most of your comments were very detailed and you all had something new to bring to the table. I loved it. This is the type of thing that inspires me to keep writing. You're the best.

Chapter Two

Beetle was sitting awkwardly on Marcia Overstrand's brand new sofa in her sitting room. Marcia was rambling and he wasn't really listening. Usually, Beetle took his job very seriously and would never daydream while another Castle dignitary was discussing the welfare of the Castle but this morning, concentrating on Marcia seemed impossible. Between the unbelievable success of his proposal to Queen Jenna the night before and the street show he had just attended, his mind was too full to think of anything else. What he couldn't understand was why the street show was affecting him nearly as much as the previous evening had. He had felt the same kind of shock and amazement run through his body as he watched Marissa dance as he had felt when Jenna had kissed him. He shivered. He recalled how he had felt Marissa's wild eyes upon him and the manner in which he had resisted that gaze for as long as humanly possible. There was something different about Marissa, something unsettling. Beetle was convinced that nearly everyone who had witnessed the performance had been similarly affected by the young Witch and he found that a bit unnatural. How could one woman capture the attention of so many people so quickly? How could any one person be that mesmerizing? Beetle cursed himself. He had at last managed to win the heart of Jenna and he was focusing on a street _floozie_. Beetle shook himself and tried to understand what Marcia was saying. He noted that the tone of her voice had reached a higher pitch, indicating, to his dismay, that she was asking him a question.

Marcia was indeed asking Beetle a question. "Beetle, are you even listening to me? What on earth is the matter with you this morning? I told you that our appointment was to begin at nine o'clock and, as you had never been late before, I had no reason to think that that would be a problem for you. I must say that I am quite surprised at you, Beetle. Not only did you arrive thirty minutes late without a decent explanation for doing so, you are now ignoring everything I am telling you. Would you at least do me the kindness of telling me why you have wasted so much of my time this morning?"

Within seconds, Beetle's face was entirely red. Never before had he made such an enormous blunder as Chief Hermetic Scribe. He had always put his job first and he had been well aware that Marcia had been impressed with his work. He had taken pride in her approval and had always respected her as an individual. Marcia had never been anything but good to Beetle. He knew that he had to think of a valid explanation for Marcia but his mind felt empty of anything but humiliation. If only he had not stopped to watch that stupid Gothyk Grotto production! He would be fine now if he hadn't. In fact, he would probably be thinking of his upcoming marriage. His marriage! That was it! "Well Marcia," he started, somewhat uneasily, "I was out really late last night after the Masquerade Ball ended. I asked Queen Jenna to be my wife and she accepted. I guess I just can't seem to focus on much else right now. I'm sorry, Marcia. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm just a bit overwhelmed, as you can imagine. I still can't believe that she accepted my proposal. I feel like the luckiest man in the world." As Beetle said these words, he realized that they were entirely true and thoughts of Marissa slowly began draining from his mind. He had wanted Jenna his entire life and now he finally had her. The more her thought about it, the more he struggled to wipe the enormous grin off of his face.

Marcia surprised Beetle by being unable to prevent a similar smile from crossing her own features. "Oh Beetle, that's marvelous news! Simply marvelous. You know I always hoped-" Marcia stopped, suddenly aware that she had said more than she had initially intended. Beetle laughed.

"You always hoped I'd ask her?" Beetle asked in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You knew I loved her too? Sep always did but I didn't realize that until recently. Sep is part of the reason I got the courage to tell her. He started scaring me, telling me that if I didn't try to win her over, someone else would very soon."

Marcia nodded, "Septimus was quite right, Beetle. Jenna has reached that age when Queens begin to search for a consort. I suppose I did rather expect her to wait a bit longer than this but I did, I must confess, always hope that it would be you. Just because I'm working most of the time doesn't mean that I don't notice people's behavior, Beetle. You've had feelings for her for quite some time, haven't you? Why didn't you tell me about this? That ought to have been the first thing you told me. I would understand, you know. Frankly, if I had known that you had proposed to her, I would have postponed this meeting so that you could get some more sleep."

Beetle was somewhat shocked by how well Marcia was taking his news but he recognized quickly that he shouldn't have been. All of the residents of the Castle believed that the Queen's marriage was of the utmost importance and there was always much excitement when a Queen became engaged. Perhaps even Marcia was affected by such excitement, though she would never admit to that. He also knew that Marcia was rather fond of him and that that fact alone meant that he did not often have to endure her infamous temper. She was very often pleased to see him and, recently, after their meetings, Marcia had, more than once, attempted to initiate casual conversations with him. This had puzzled Beetle at first but when he spoke to Septimus about it, his best friend had given him an answer that, strange though it seemed, made sense to the young Chief Hermetic Scribe. "Marcia is lonely," Septimus had said, "I'm spending more and more time away from the Wizard Tower now that I'm older. All apprentices do that. We have to perform **magyk **in the community for the last few years of our apprenticeships. She misses having company around." After hearing this, it had occurred to Beetle that he had never imagined that Marcia Overstrand could be subject to vulnerable emotions like loneliness. It had been difficult for Beetle to imagine that Marcia could be vulnerable at all. However, over the last few months, he had come to realize that Septimus was right. Marcia was lonely. She was as human as anyone else. Beetle's thoughts drifted to Milo Banda and the horrible glance he had given Beetle as he had retreated to the Wizard Tower earlier that morning. Pity rose in his chest. Marcia had become more than someone he admired since he had become Chief Scribe. She had become his colleague and, on some level, his friend. He suddenly felt that Milo didn't deserve Marcia's affection. Marcia, after so many years of loneliness, deserved someone who would devote all of his affection to her alone.

"That's kind of you," Beetle replied, finally forcing himself to return to the conversation, "But I imagine that you did not sleep much yourself and yet you are here now. I should not have allowed my personal life to interfere with my work. But Marcia," Beetle gulped and paused momentarily, praying silently that he wouldn't offend Marcia with what he was about to say, "I was thinking about…well…about Jenna's family and I guess that made me think about Mr. Banda." Just the mention of Milo's name made Marcia's cheeks turn the slightest bit pink, but whether it was with embarrassment or excitement Beetle wasn't certain. He decided to try his luck and continued, "I respect Mr. Banda, I really do, but I don't want to be a consort like he was. I know that he enjoys the company of women, some people say he enjoys it too much and, before he started courting you consistently, Marcia, it seemed as though every woman in the Castle was of interest to him. I never want to make Jenna feel that there is anyone else I could possibly love more than I love her. I want her to know without a doubt that she is the great desire of my heart and has been since the day I met her when we were only children. I feel a bit sorry for Jenna's mother. If Mr. Banda is a lusty man now, what must he have been like in his twenties?" Beetle stopped, suddenly aware that he had been talking to himself as much as to Marcia and that he had unintentionally insulted Milo Banda. Marcia looked understandably upset.

"Beetle, I do not at all comprehend the purpose of the conversation we are having. You know perfectly well that Milo does not _fling_ himself at every woman he knows and even if he did, it wouldn't be your business at all, would it? I simply don't understand why everyone in the Castle is making such a fuss about the fact that he and I had gone out a few times. It matters not a jot to me what they do with their lives and I don't see why they have any interest in mine." Beetle did feel some sympathy at this. He knew that the general public had taken a keen interest in his private life the moment he had become the Chief Hermetic Scribe and it was difficult to know that so many people were watching his every move. Beetle decided to get to the point.

"Marcia, I respect you more than you even know. I think you're a wonderful ExtraOrdinary Wizard and what you have done for the Castle during your years in charge is commendable. I don't want to see you get disappointed or hurt by someone as foolish as Mr. Banda. Please hear me out. This morning, when I was walking to the Tower, Mr. Banda stopped me and told me to watch the Gothyk Grotto Festival, you know, that street show everyone has been going to see. I was curious enough to stay and that was the other reason I was late today." Beetle held his breath awkwardly and Marcia released a splutter of disapproval.

"Being late on account of the proposal is understandable. This, however, is not. Why on earth would you or Milo have any interest in that wretched production?" Marcia wrinkled her nose in disgust and Beetle couldn't help but notice how aristocratic she looked. This was why a number of the common people did not approve of her. They found it difficult to relate to someone so wealthy and refined.

Beetle found it impossible to keep his gaze on Marcia's intense emerald eyes so he decided to focus on the floor beneath him instead. "Mr. Banda said it was supposed to be a good show. I happy about the proposal and decided that watching a ridiculous show with my future father in law wouldn't be such a way for me to get to know him a little better. Most of the show was pretty ridiculous but the last act was…a surprise, you could say. There was a young woman, a witch, that performed and Marcia, I've never seen anyone like her." At last Beetle looked up. "She's frightening," he said passionately, "When she started singing and dancing, everyone was enthralled. It was as though she had us all under some powerful, sick spell. I have never seen one person affect that many people in that way. She is the reason that people are going to see that show. Mr. Banda looked at her as though he'd never seen a woman in his life. She came over to him and grabbed his hand. She sang only to him, it seemed but then, when the show was over, she wrote my name in the dirt rather than his and I knew that I had met her before. Her name is Marissa and she has been a member of both the Port Witch Coven and the Wendron Witch Coven. Milo was very moved by her performance and she is extremely beautiful. After she wrote my name, he seemed very upset, jealous even. That is why I felt the need to talk to you about, Mr. Banda, Marcia. I want you to be happy and I don't mean to pry into your personal affairs but I'm not sure about his character. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Marcia was touched, confused, and insulted all at once. "Beetle, I wouldn't engage in something that I had reason to believe would ultimately make me unhappy. Besides, it isn't as though I'm going to melt if Milo decides he no longer wishes to court me. I've got much more important matters to attend to anyhow. I'm flattered that you respect me enough to inform me of this but it truly doesn't matter. I thought you knew me better than this. I would never allow a silly relationship to "hurt" me, as you've put it. I'm a bit shocked that he would adopt such an interest in that ghastly witch but I suppose that, if he wants to be with her, there is nothing that can be done. He will continue his life and I mine. I shall speak to Milo about this tonight and, if he is really taken with a disgusting witch, I shall wish him luck and send him on his way. You need not worry about me being hurt, I shan't be." Marcia's tone was very definite but her eyes and body language told a different story. Her long fingers were running through her thick, ebony curls which hung in somewhat frazzled tendrils around her shoulders rather than the perfect ringlets Beetle was accustomed to seeing. Her skin, usually a pleasant, creamy shade, was now as white as a sheet of Manuscriptorium paper. But all of this Beetle could have ignored if not for her eyes, those wide, bright eyes that brimmed with tears for a fraction of a second. Marcia quickly fought them back but Beetle had seen them and they revealed the truth of her feelings to him. He found himself disliking Milo Banda even more than before but he knew better than to press the issue further. If Marcia had made up her mind, then there was nothing else that could be done for it. His mind drifted to Jenna once more. Never would he make her feel the way that Milo's actions were making Marcia feel.

Beetle's eyes strayed to the quirky clock on Marcia's wall and he recalled that he had promised to visit Jenna again after the meeting. "You're right, Marcia. I shouldn't have worried. I apologize for mentioning it. I hope we can forget this conversation and move forward." Beetle said the words not because he meant them, but because he knew that they were what Marcia would want to hear. He was right.

"Of course, Beetle. I do appreciate your concern for me but it is unfounded, I assure you. Do go and enjoy the day. Why don't you visit Jenna?"

Beetle forced a smile. "I think I will. Have a good day, Marcia. I guess I'll be going now. I'll come back on Thursday for our next meeting. I won't be late again, I promise."

Marcia gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I know that you won't be. You are a very responsible young man and I trust that you will keep your word. You don't need to continue to reassure me. Off you go now."

Beetle could tell that Marcia wanted him gone so he offered a small wave and departed. It wasn't until he reached the spiral staircase that led to Marcia's rooms that he realized that they had not even completed their meeting. Beetle shook his head in dismay. Clearly, the news about Milo's behavior had had a deep and nasty effect on her. Beetle sighed and decided to focus his attention on Jenna, sure that a visit to her would improve this decidedly dismal day.

xxx

Unbeknownst to Beetle, his fiancée was not in the Palace but rather at the residence of the Castle Alchemist, Marcellus Pye. In spite of her joy over her engagement, Jenna's thoughts of the task her mother had given her had begun to take a toll on her over the course of the evening and she had slept very badly as a result. After hours of tossing and turning in bed, Jenna had concluded that she wanted to pay a visit to the one person in the Castle who might believe the story that he mother had told her. Marcellus, as an alchemist, had a long history of disapproving of Wizards and the manner in which they conducted their lives and, although he had recently cleared his name in the Castle and in Marcia's eyes, Jenna doubted that he trusted Marcia implicitly. He was, after all, a member of the royal family-her family- and throughout history, her family had been notorious for their mistrust of the Wizarding community. That was, Jenna was certain, the reason for the creation of the knife that her mother had given her. She felt that knife in the pocket of her tunic now, a heavy weight that she would rather not carry.

Jenna was having tea with Marcellus. She had just informed him of all that her mother, Cerys, had told her when she had come to visit her a few weeks earlier and Marcellus appeared to be quite shaken. "Let me make certain I understand all that you have said. Your mother has informed you that Marcia is responsible for her death because she too loved that foolish goon Milo Banda and didn't want to share him? Don't misunderstand me, Jenna, but I'm not convinced that Marcia would do something as horrible as tipping off DomDaniel. It is very true that she has an unnatural and dangerous fear of all things **darke **but she seems like the sort of person who would always have such a fear. You see, a person who wields **darke magyk **lacks a certain level of control that a person who does not use it manages to maintain. Marcia, as I'm sure you know, likes to control every aspect of her life down to the last detail. She isn't much of a risk taker. She is willing to forfeit a significant amount of **magykal **power that she could have in favor of maintaining absolute control of every aspect of her life. Your mother, poor woman, did not live very long and is understandably upset about that. She is aware that Milo has taken an interest in Marcia and finds it unfair that the man that was promised to her forever is falling for a woman of whom she does not approve. Don't you see, Jenna? Your mother is angry. Many ghosts are angry but that doesn't mean that what she is saying is true. I am no greater fan of our ExtraOrdinary Wizard than you are, Jenna, but I can't deny that her care and concern for you is apparent. She isn't cunning enough to bring about anyone's death."

A silence hung in the air as Jenna thought about Marcellus's words. She could scarcely believe that even he did not have faith in what Cerys had said. Jenna knew in her heart that Cerys would not lie to her but she was becoming more and more afraid. If no one in the Castle believed her, then she would be reviled by the city's citizens for murdering an innocent woman. Jenna shuddered at the thought. Marcellus noticed.

"Are you cold? I can light a fire for you."

Jenna shook her head. She looked up at Marcellus's handsome face, making one final effort. "Marcellus, I know what my mother told me is true. I can't explain why, I just know. She told me not to tell anyone. She said that if I did, no one would believe me and now I am seeing that she is right. But you must believe me if I am to carry out my mother's bidding. I just thought that you of all people would understand."

Marcellus sighed in disbelief. "Jenna, I hope you realize that just because your mother told you that this was the right thing to do doesn't make it acceptable in the eyes of the people." Marcellus lowered his voice, "We are discussing _murder_ without proof, an assassination for no reason other than your mother's hate. Even if what she said were true, what difference would it make? Marcia would never hurt you. She cares deeply for you. If you murder her, you will break the alliance between the Wizard Tower and the royal family forever. There will be riots everywhere, believe me."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "No one even likes Marcia, Marcellus."

"That isn't true, Jenna. Even if it were, the Wizards would not stand there and do nothing if the Queen murdered their leader. The few times that the knife has been used throughout history have lead to battles that nearly destroyed the Castle." Marcellus groaned, "I cannot believe what your mother's ghost has asked of you. That knife ought to be dispatched immediately. It has never brought any good to the Castle other than to remind the Wizards that the Queen has dominion over them, a fact that causes tension between the Wizard Tower and the Palace. If this city is to succeed in the long run, there need not be any more tension of that kind. If you would like, I will take the knife from you so that your temptation will lessen."

Jenna's anger reached a boiling point. "No!" she cried, "You will not keep me from carrying out what I am meant to do. This is my duty to the Castle as its Queen! Marcia is corrupt and she must be stopped." Anger coursed through her like wildfire and she fought back the shocking urge to unsheathe the knife and stab Marcellus with it. She trembled violently, knowing that that was not her intention. Marcellus had done nothing but disbelief her and remind her that the fears that kept her awake at night could become reality. She took a deep breath and began to calm down, shocked at her own behavior. "I'm sorry, Marcellus, I just….I feel that she must be stopped."

Marcellus surprised Jenna by placing a consoling hand on her back. "I know, I know. But you need proof of something like that before you can attack. I don't think there is proof to be found. You need to be the best Queen that you can be and ignore your mother's desires. I am not saying that that will be easy. Even I had trouble resisting the will of my mother, as I'm sure you remember, but I managed it and you must do the same. You are strong, Jenna. Don't lose that strength."

To Jenna's disgust, she found that tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Marcellus," she said in a small voice, "Milo never stayed for me. All through my childhood, he knew I was alive but he never stayed here and bothered to get to know me. His voyages were of the utmost importance to him. He stays here now but he stays for _Marcia_, not me." Jenna's voice broke and Marcellus was quite surprised that this perfect, _porcelain _girl could be capable of such emotions. Marcellus followed his instincts and pulled her into his arms, trying his best to offer her some comfort. Jenna was apparently finished attempting to disguise her feelings and she cried openly into Marcellus's shoulder like the lost, frightened child she truly was.

After a few minutes had passed, Marcellus dared to ask a question. "This isn't only about the task your mother asked you to complete, is it? It is also about you. Milo is finally yours and now Marcia is taking him from you." Marcellus shook his head, "I'm sorry, Jenna. I truly am but Marcia will never take Milo from you. Men always love their children first and they love their daughters best of all. Milo has had a hundred women like Marcia but he has only one child."

Jenna froze. These words were exactly what she had subconsciously been longing to hear since she had learned that Milo was courting Marcia. More tears-tears of gratitude this time- fell from her eyes. She was beginning to think that perhaps Marcellus was right but she couldn't just ignore her mother's wishes. Surely, it would not all be as bad as Marcellus was saying it would be. She allowed herself a small smile. Milo did love her best, she was sure of it. That thought made all the difference to her.

Marcellus noticed her smile. "That's better. Just try to forget all of this. Your position is very complicated. It is a very difficult job for someone so young but you are doing wonderfully. It will be good for you to go and enjoy the sunshine. It is a beautiful day out. Stop fretting over what your mother instructed you to do and relax. The last few weeks have been quite eventful for you. Time to relax is precisely what you need."

Even as Marcellus spoke, Jenna began to convince herself that relaxing might not be a bad idea. She would put aside the thought of her mother's instructions for one afternoon and allow herself a bit of relaxation and fun. Jenna grinned at the thought. Marcellus naturally believed she was smiling because she had finally decided not to take her mother's violent words to heart. Jenna, however, was only allowing herself a small break before making more plans. She would not let Cerys down and someday, Marcellus and everyone else in the Castle would understand that the murder of Marcia Overstrand was something she was obligated to do. She could not shame the family by refusing her mother's request. It would be unthinkable.

xxx

A half hour later, after Jenna had left Marcellus's home, Simon Heap returned from his lunch break, eager to continue his lessons as Alchemie Apprentice. Marcellus had both very much looked forward to and dreaded his apprentice's arrival. Over the past few weeks, Marcellus had begun to come to the somewhat unattractive conclusion that he was starting to view his apprentice in a manner that wasn't acceptable. Marcellus had always been aware that he was the sort of man that preferred the company of both sexes and many of his most memorable affairs had been with other men. Marcellus could not prevent himself from noticing that Simon Heap was just the sort of man that he would have found himself drawn to during his own Time. Simon was handsome, of course, with his curly blonde hair and bright green eyes, but it wasn't his physical appearance that provoked Marcellus's interest in him. No, Marcellus had seen and lain with a number of attractive men. What he enjoyed in Simon was his rare passion for learning new information and aspiring to become the very best at everything that he tried. Marcellus too had had such a drive his entire life and he identified with Simon. In some ways, he felt he understood him better than he had ever understood another man. They had much more in common than Marcellus had ever expected that they would. Marcellus was nothing if not courteous, however, and he knew better than to approach Simon if he had no desire to be approached. Marcellus could tell that Simon was happy with Lucy and was nothing short of ecstatic about the fact that they were going to have a child together. Marcellus didn't exactly understand what the handsome, charismatic Simon saw in Lucy. She was slightly chubby and rather unremarkable in Marcellus's opinion. Lucy was dull and Simon was utterly radiant.

Marcellus reminded himself sternly that Simon loved Lucy and that, as long as he did, he could not do anything to draw Simon away from her. That would be selfish and immoral. Being selfish had never done Marcellus many favors during his long life. He was pleased that Simon was such a large presence in his life and, even if he couldn't have him for himself, he could enjoy his company on daily basis. That was far better than nothing. Marcellus recalled the way he had initially hoped that Septimus would become his apprentice rather than his brother but now, Marcellus found himself wondering how he could ever have wanted to work with someone other than Simon. Marcellus thought of something that Marcia Overstrand often said, some corny idea of hers about things having a habit of working out and he smiled to himself. Marcia was at least right about that.

Marcia! As the thought of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard slipped into his mind, Marcellus began further contemplating the conversation he had had with Queen Jenna. He felt that, after all that he had said to her, the odds of her harming Marcia were slim. With that said, he still felt a bit uneasy. She had, after all, refused to hand over the knife that her mother had given her and that was hardly a good sign. Marcellus tutted to himself. He knew that, if he kept this information to himself and some horrible fate befell Marcia, he would feel the sting of guilt for the rest of his life. Marcellus knew that living with that would be unbearable. With this thought in his mind, the alchemist made the decision to confide in his apprentice. He knew that Simon, with his love of **magyk**, would agree that protecting Marcia would be absolutely necessary. Simon was also Jenna's brother and Marcellus knew that it was just possible that Simon would have more influence with Jenna than he had had. He might be able to convince her to hand over the knife. With the goal of preventing the Castle from descending into the inevitable chaos that the murder of Marcia Overstrand would bring about, Marcellus told Simon all that Jenna had told him less than an hour before. Unfortunately, the results were disastrous. In spite of Marcellus's protests, Simon insisted that it was imperative that he see his sister at once. Marcellus begged his apprentice not to behave rashly but Simon, desiring to protect all things **magykal **at all costs, set out for the Palace and assured Marcellus that "all would be well." Simon was sadly wrong in this assumption.

xxx

When Simon arrived at the Palace, he was shown into the garden just to the side of what had once been his mother's sitting room. It was a beautiful garden, lush with foliage of all kinds that always made Simon feel as though he had stepped into paradise every time he paid a visit. Simon saw his sister sitting on an elegant white bench beneath the tallest of the rose bushes. When she saw him, she surprised him by smiling. "Come in, Simon! It is good to see you. Do you want some tea? I can tell the girls in the kitchen to make some for you."

Simon politely returned his sister's smile, relieved that she seemed pleased to see him. "No thanks, Jen." He said, "I've just come to talk to you."

Jenna raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "What about, Simon? Surely you have enough to worry about during the day with that new apprenticeship and a baby on the way. What is so pressing that you had to come to talk with me now?"

Simon hesitated, wondering what would be the best manner to broach his topic. He decided to cut to the chase. "Jenna, I've spoken to Marcellus and I'm a bit worried about what your mother-the Queen, I mean-told you. Do you think you can tell me more about that?"

Jenna's expression, which had been one of suspicion before, quickly became one of rage. "Marcellus told you about what we discussed? That is none of your business, Simon. It doesn't affect you even slightly."

Simon couldn't mask his exasperation. "Of course it affects me, Jen. I'm a Wizard. We're a family of Wizards. How could it not affect me? Your mother has asked you to kill the ExtraOrdinary Wizard, the very same task that DomDaniel gave me years ago! Can you even imagine the turmoil that would have occurred in the Castle if DomDaniel's plan had succeeded? That level of chaos is not even comparable to the amount of misery you would cause in this city by killing Marcia. Jenna, the common people would suffer. Think of them. Many of the common people are friends with Wizards but they would feel obliged to side with you if you declared that Wizards were evil."

"But I am not declaring that Wizards are evil, Simon! I never said that."

"Ah, but you may as well be. Murdering the ExtraOrdinary Wizard is the biggest insult to the Wizarding community imaginable. The people would be devastated. None of the Wizards would trust you or anyone who followed you. Is that what you want, Jenna? Do you want to divide the Castle?"

"I want to protect the Castle from corrupt leaders. Do not pretend that you know better how to lead this city than I do, Simon." Jenna's voice took an unfamiliar, frigid edge that rendered her cold and unfamiliar to Simon. For the first time, he felt afraid. He was no longer merely addressing his little sister but rather the Queen of the Castle, the Queen who could subject him to any punishment that she desired if he did not submit to her whims. The realization of this began to dawn on him and he found that he could no longer speak. Simon's silence inspired Jenna to keep speaking.

"Simon, after all that you put me through as a child, you are lucky that I don't have you killed. The least you could do is respect my decision. My conversation with Marcellus this morning was enlightening in many ways but it has not changed my mind. I know that he is wrong, you see. The Castle can always get another ExtraOrdinary Wizard-Marcia is replaceable-but it can never gain another Queen. The Castle loves its Queen, it always has. These people will love me too. They will not question the choice I have made for very long and there will be no riots."

Simon found himself unable to tolerate anymore. "Who has brainwashed you? What has become of your mind, Jenna? What is wrong with you? This is murder! You're a good girl, you're my sister. Come on, Jens, don't be like this. You know better than this. Please, Jens, please."

Jenna's eyes did not soften at Simon's compliments and he felt his heart sink. Jenna seemed briefly to be made of stone. She did not move and her expression did not change. After what seemed like hours, she brought her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. Then at last, she turned to Simon and said, "I loved you, Simon. I always did, but I can't afford to have you tell people about what I must do before I have done it. People will accept it only after I have done it. It is the way of the Castle. Marcellus will never tell, he is not brave enough, but you will and I can't afford that."

"Jenna, what do you-" Simon began but before he could finish, two large Palace guards dressed in armor had taken hold of his arms. He groaned. That was clearly why Jenna had whistled. Perhaps the Palace was more heavily guarded than Simon had originally believed. But why? When had this happened? Simon didn't have anymore time to consider these questions though, because the sentence that escaped his younger sister's lips wiped all other thoughts from his mind. "Take him to Dungeon Number One. He shall be executed in one week's time for disrespecting his Queen."

"Jenna, don't be ridiculous! You can't do that! What you're doing is wrong! Jenna, this is the craziest thing I've ever heard. I did _nothing_.

Jenna did not look her eldest brother in the eyes. She turned her back to him and seemed focused on the long vines that stretched elegantly across the stone garden walls. "Take him away."

xxx

Thus Simon Heap was imprisoned the nastiest of the Castle's dungeons and was due to be executed in a week's time. Marcellus Pye and Lucy Heap were nothing short of distraught but there was nothing that could be done for it. Lucy was not willing to give up and had gone to the Palace multiple times, demanding to see Jenna but she was always dismissed. Marcellus knew that there was no arguing with the decision of a Queen. There was nothing that could be done to save Simon now. Marcellus contemplated going to talk to Jenna about Simon's imprisonment but he knew that, if he pressed the issue very far with her, she might decide to execute him as well. Marcellus had come too far to allow that to happen. He had to keep his temper. If he had survived the tyranny of his mother, Queen Etheldredda, he could survive Jenna's reign as well. The key was just remaining as far from the Palace and royal affairs as possible. Although the thought of losing Simon made Marcellus ill, the thought of losing his head made him feel still worse. Therefore, Marcellus Pye hoped for a miracle that he knew, more than likely, would not come.

A miracle did come, albeit not in the way Marcellus had hoped it might. It came in the form of a tall, lanky young man who carried himself awkwardly and was not often seen in the streets of the Castle. He would sneak into the Castle whenever he could get away with it but not for any of the reasons the Castle citizens would have initially expected. If the people of the Castle had known that this particular young man was still venturing into the Castle after being banished by Marcia Overstrand more than two years earlier, they would have believed that he was creating some kind of mischief, causing someone pain or misery for his own amusement. Perhaps, two years before, this would have been the case. Now, however, this same, lanky, unloved, awkward boy returned to this place so filled with bad memories for him for one reason alone. Merrin Meredith had fallen in love.

It had been sudden for Merrin. He had known and felt so little love in his dismal life that he had not truly realized that what he was experiencing was love until it had crept into his life and taken him prisoner. When Marcia Overstrand had kept both Merrin and his mother, Nurse Meredith, in the Wizard Tower in order to draw in the Ring Wizards, Merrin had spent a great deal of time in the Sick Bay. More often than not, he felt no drive to do anything, even to get out of bed. At home in the Port, he frequently assisted his mother with chores that took his mind off of his wild past. While living in the Port, Merrin had grown into a quiet, rather inoffensive young man. He was sill gauche and avoided social situations as often as he could, but without the influence of the Two Faced Ring, Merrin was harmless. He had no wish to admit it, but he felt more than a bit guilty about the way he had behaved in the Castle and found himself dreaming on a regular basis about the people who had lost their lives in the **Darke Domaine** he had engendered. In his dreams, he saw their faces.-innocent children, charming woman, lusty, handsome men. They were all attractive and lovely individuals, lost forever because of his stupid mistake. More than ever, Merrin believed what DomDaniel had told him as a boy. He _was_ stupid. No one who wasn't would have treated the people of the Castle in such a way. He couldn't talk to his mother about that though. That was the trouble. Merrin couldn't talk to his mother about much at all. He knew that the poor woman's life had been difficult enough on its own and he had no desire to burden her further with stories of the tortures he had been made to endure as a young boy. He knew that his mother blamed herself for allowing him to be stolen from her.

But all of Merrin's incessant guilt seemed to fade away every time he had entered the Sick Bay in the Wizard Tower. In the Sick Bay, he could forget himself and think about the beautiful Sick Bay apprentice, Rose.

Rose was the only girl who had ever smiled at Merrin. He knew that most girls thought he was ugly and disagreeable, but Rose didn't seem to. Every day, when she would come into his room to tidy it or clean something, she would offer him that same, unfathomably huge smile that he came to associate with her. Often she would say hello and inquire after how he felt. In response, Merrin would only mumble. What could he have to say to Rose? He was a monster who had nearly destroyed the Castle. He could have _killed _Rose with his carelessness. He didn't deserve to speak to her. Some days, Rose did not visit his room and Merrin felt that those days lasted forever. He would wait all day for that three minute glimpse of her and then, when she was in the hallway outside of his room and the door was shut, he would press his ear to the door, hoping desperately to hear the light, happy sound of her voice. Merrin's love for Rose was not as unpredictable as he himself believed it to be. Merrin Meredith was the physical embodiment of misery and darkness and Rose was happiness and light. Those lost in the dark do tend to reach for the light, no matter how unlikely their chances are of reaching it.

After his weeks in the Wizard Tower drew to a close and Merrin returned to the Port, he began to find that he was no longer content there. He felt restless, consumed with thoughts of Rose and the memory of the fact that, in spite of all that he had done to her and everyone else in the Castle, Rose had consistently smiled at him and been kind to him. Rose had done what Merrin had believed was impossible. She had forgiven him. His fixation on her became so intense that he found he could no longer stay away. Unbeknownst to his mother, Merrin had begun sneaking to the Castle once a week. He would tell his mother that he was going to visit friends he didn't have and would instead sneak to the Castle every Wednesday afternoon, when he knew that Septimus Heap took Rose for a long walk through the prettiest of the Palace's gardens. There was, not far from the bench on which Rose and Septimus would sit, a slight hole in the hedges that bordered the garden, a hole just large enough for Merrin to see Rose and admire her. He lived for Wednesday evenings when he could see her trademark smile somewhere other than in his dreams. When he watched Septimus with her, he couldn't help but find it ironic that the most intriguing girl he had ever met had fallen for the kid that had stolen the name he had used for the first ten years of his life. Every so often, when he could bear to take his eyes off of Rose's lovely face, Merrin would close his eyes and imagine that his old name was still his. When Rose whispered, "Septimus," as he kissed her, Merrin would imagine that he was the one kissing Rose and that she was whispering his name. It had been his once, after all. Wednesdays were confusing to Merrin as Wednesday was both the happiest and the most intolerable day of the week. It was he happiest because Merrin could look at Rose and observe her mannerisms and it was intolerable because there was no loneliness comparable to that which he felt after he returned to the Port on Wednesday evenings. The game of pretend was over then and he had to remind himself that Rose was just another thing Septimus Heap-the real Septimus Heap-had that he would never have. He often spent Wednesday nights feeling sorry for himself and would then wake on Thursdays feeling pathetic. It was the same disgusting routine.

On this Wednesday evening, as Merrin was making his way to the Palace, he ran into someone that he absolutely had not expected to see. As he drew near to the Palace, he saw the figure of a lone woman standing just outside of the Palace doors. Even from a distance, he could tell that she was crying. Merrin had no wish to be seen. He knew that he would have to be subtle in order to slip past this woman and continue on his way to the Palace garden. All the same, he couldn't help but wonder who the woman was and what had happened to upset her so. There was something vaguely familiar about the way she carried herself but Merrin couldn't quite put his finger on what was that made him feel as though he knew her. Curiosity got the better of him and he found himself almost involuntarily moving toward the woman, as though he was being drawn to her by some powerful, invisible force. As he neared her, he realized that he did know her. It was Lucy Gringe, Simon Heap's girlfriend. Merrin noted that she still had about her that charming, quirky air that had sparked his interest a few years prior. A second glance at her revealed to him that she was heavily pregnant. Had Simon married her? Surely he had. Merrin hadn't been especially fond of Simon but he knew that Simon would never shame Lucy by allowing her to have a child out of wedlock. Merrin shook his head in pity. He had always liked Lucy. What was going on? Against his better judgment, he walked toward her, hoping that she would remember him. Lucy had always been kind to Merrin. In his life, three people had shown him kindness and one had shown him mercy. Lucy had been the first to show him sympathy and kindness and he felt some urge deep inside himself to show her the same kindness. It was the least he could do.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly and his voice surprised not only Lucy but himself as well. It sounded hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in days. Lucy was astonished.

"Merrin Meredith!" she gasped, "You…you're…well what are you doing here?"

Merrin stopped, realizing that he couldn't answer this question without revealing that he had snuck past Lucy's father Gringe in order to enter the Castle. He decided to dodge the question. "I could ask them same of you, Lucy. What is the matter? It looks like it might rain. Shouldn't you be inside?" Merrin felt awkward inquiring after Lucy's health but he knew that his mother often made small talk with the neighbors in a similar way and it seemed like an intelligent way to begin a conversation.

Lucy's face clouded. "You aren't supposed to be in the Castle. You could be captured. You should go, Merrin. I think you're a good lad. I always liked you but you're going to be hurt if you stay here. Please take my advice."

Merrin shook his head. "Lucy, no one gets captured here. Even Marcia Overstrand showed me mercy after…well…after all of that horrible trouble I caused. I'm fine."

Lucy laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't be so certain. Things have changed since the Queen came of age.

Merrin was intrigued. "What do you mean, Lucy?"

Lucy bit her lip, determined to prevent any more tears from spilling down her cheeks. "They've got my husband." She said softly, "They've got Si and they're going to have him killed next week. He didn't do anything, honest, he didn't. He's like you, Merrin, just misunderstood. Queen Jenna has condemned him to death for disrespecting her. I don't even know what she means. She won't see me so I have no idea what their conversation was about. I doubt he said anything horrible. He doesn't do things like that anymore. Besides, even if he did, that wouldn't give her a reason to have him killed. She's a child and they've given her too much power and now my poor Si will never even get to see our child." At this, Lucy broke once more into sobs and Merrin felt helpless. How could the Princess have grown from such a seemingly inoffensive child into a mad monarch? What would have provoked her to change so rapidly? Merrin considered Lucy for a moment. She was right that it was outrageously unfair that Simon should never even have the chance to meet his child. After all of the time he had spent waiting to marry Lucy, he would not even get to share his life with her. As he was thinking, anger began to boil up inside of Merrin.

"Where is Simon right now?" he demanded.

Lucy's red eyes met Merrin's. "He's in _Dungeon Number One_."

Merrin cringed. That was indeed an absurd punishment but a plan was beginning to form in Merrin's mind and, as it did so, a small smile played across his lips. Perhaps, if his plan went accordingly, the Wizards would consider him a hero and he and his mother could return to the Castle. Perhaps then, he could see Rose whenever he wanted…..Merrin's excitement increased with each passing second. This was his chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the Wizards at least. No one in the Castle, aside from the ExtraOrdinary Wizard in some cases, could defy the Queen's wishes but Merrin seriously doubted that the execution of Simon Heap would be popular among the residents of the Castle. From what Merrin had heard, Simon had become a respected citizen over the last few years. Aside from the possibility that saving Simon could spare his reputation, he also reveled in the chance to help Lucy after she had been so kind to him before. "Lucy," he said quietly, "I was DomDaniel's apprentice once. I know how to enter Dungeon Number One. I know the **undo **to lock on the the door. After that, Simon could probably escape. I'll find a rope, open the door, and throw the rope down to him. I'll do it at midnight. Then you and Simon can come back to the Port with me and we will try to figure out where to go from there."

Lucy's eyes filled again, this time with tears of gratitude. She threw her arms around Merrin, a sensation that shocked him. "Merrin, my god! You're a saint. I always knew you were good, I always knew."

Merrin smiled, a sincere, true smile. "It's the least I can do."

xxx

Not far away, in the Ramblings, JoJo Heap and his brother, Nicko, were deep in conversation. JoJo was complaining to Nicko about the fact that Marissa, his fiancée, never seemed to have any more time for him. "Nicko," he was saying, "it shouldn't be complicated. If she wants to marry me, she ought to want to spend time with me. Instead, she's in this show running about like a tramp when she really ought to know better. Do you know what she makes me look like when she goes around like that?"

"She probably makes everyone jealous of you." Nicko smirked. "People know she's engaged and she's become one of the most beautiful women in the Castle. She certainly has the most unique appearance. He hair is like fire, JoJo. She's exotic. If you don't stop complaining about her, I'll take her for myself."

Nicko's grin of amusement faded when he noticed that JoJo's furious expression. "That isn't funny, Nick. I'll kick your ass if you ever talk about her like that again. Do you understand?"

"Okay, okay! I was just joking. Like I said, everyone knows she is yours."

JoJo did not acknowledge his brother's reassuring words. "Did you see the way that nasty old sailor man Banda was looking at her? It was like he'd like to eat her! I'm good with knives, you know. I'd cut his throat if he touched her, mark my words, I would."

Nicko sighed heavily. "Marissa loves you, JoJo. She's just having a bit of fun. What fun would a woman be if she wasn't entrancing? Your girl is the most entrancing woman in the Castle. Everybody knows it. You've got the most desirable woman in the city, JoJo. Stop irking the rest of us by complaining about your good fortune. If she didn't want you, she would have broken off the engagement a long time ago."

"I'm not complaining!" JoJo cried defensively. "I just….never mind!"

"What? Never mind _what_?"

But before JoJo could reply, the door to JoJo's room in the Ramblings burst open and Silas Heap rushed inside. "Dad!" the boys yelled in unison.

Silas looked as pale as his sons had ever seen him. "Someone tried to help our Simon escape. They're fighting in the streets right now, those that support Jenna's decision are fighting with those who don't. It is unbelievable. The Wizards never approved of Simon's conviction and this is their chance to fight back!" Silas was overwhelmed. "Someone helped him escape. He may survive. We've got to help him. We've got to tell Marcia." He gestured to his sons, "Come with me. Your brother needs you."

Nicko stood his ground, in spite of the shock the news that the people of the Castle had turned to violence had inspired in him. "And what of our sister, Dad? What of Jenna? We don't need to side with Simon, we need to stop the fighting."

Silas groaned miserably and for a fleeting second Nicko truly felt the depth of his father's emotional pain. "Nicko, your idea is wise but it isn't practical. This situation requires us to pick a side and I have chosen mine. I hope that you will chose the same."

And so, three Heaps, nearly trembling with emotion and dismay, departed JoJo's modest room in the Ramblings and made for the streets with the hope of finding Simon and bringing him to safety.

xxx

On the opposite side of the Castle, Beetle was trying to get some fresh air. He was blissfully unaware of the fighting on Wizard Way. Instead, he was trapped in his own thoughts. Since the day that Simon had been convicted, Beetle had tried to talk to Jenna and she had repeatedly refused to see him. On the day Simon had been taken into custody, Beetle had paid a visit to the Palace and Jenna had informed him of what had occurred between her and Simon. She had said that he had refused to kneel before her and that that indicated that he did not respect her as Queen. She had told Beetle that she couldn't afford for the Wizards to forget that they were loyal to their Queen before anything else in their lives. She insisted that she was making an example of Simon. Beetle had been stunned. Never had he even fathomed that Jenna would be capable of such cruelty. He had told her that he found her treatment of Simon to be entirely unreasonable and at this, she had dismissed him. For a week since, they had not exchanged a word. Beetle found it all maddening. It was impossible even for him to work and the scribes were beginning, for the first time, to question the wisdom of promoting Beetle to Chief Hermetic Scribe. He just wanted Jenna back, _his _Jenna.

As Beetle fretted over his situation, he passed a few dark alleyways. He thought nothing of them. He had passed them many times before and had nothing that any pickpocket would have interest in taking at the moment. Therefore, he strolled confidently through the area, every second becoming more and more certain that he would never see the girl he loved again, that she wouldn't marry him after all.

A piercing shriek filled his ears and he jumped, shaken by the unsettling noise. Ignoring his better judgment, Beetle turned the lantern he was carrying in the general direction whence the sound had come. "Hello?" he called out tentatively, "Is there anyone there?"

There was no response and Beetle was starting to think that he really was going mad when he heard yet another scream and this was enough to inspire him to rush down the nearest alleyway at top speed. At the end of it, he found a wretched scene. Marissa, the exquisitely beautiful witch, was pressed against the wall by a tall, rather burly man with broad shoulders and dark hair. Her scarlet hair was easily to make out, even in the darkness and her milky skin shone in the moonlight. Beetle shuddered from head to toe. The man had removed much of the unfortunate young woman's clothing and was attempting to ravish her. Beetle looked at the man, a feeling of dread filling his stomach. The odds of him being able to defeat a man so much larger and stronger than he was were not good but he had to try. Marissa did not deserve to be disgraced in such a way. Beetle came up behind Marissa's attacker and gave him a powerful shove.

The man swung around, prepared, Beetle could tell, to punch him until he fainted. That would be okay, at least Marissa wouldn't be violated. She would have time to escape. Beetle braced himself, expecting the worst.

But the worst didn't come. Beetle looked up at his attacker and realized with horror that it was none other than Milo Banda. One look at the older man told Beetle that he was intoxicated. Milo's fury was palpable but he didn't harm Beetle as Beetle had expected him too. He supposed that Milo found the situation as awkward as he did. "It is only for Jenna's sake that I don't ruin your face, boy." He snarled, "Don't tell anyone what you saw and there won't be any trouble, you got that?"

"You're a monster." Beetle spat, "If Marcia knew-"

"But she won't know." Milo snapped, "Don't you want Marcia to be happy? How can she be happy when she knows that she isn't quite enough to satisfy me? I'm a man and we have desires. If you want to hurt Marcia, you go right ahead and tell her about me. If not, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

Beetle admitted reluctantly to himself that Milo was right. This news would do nothing more than devastate Marcia. Milo, still furious, threw on his shirt and left the alleyway, leaving Marissa breathless and scantily clad right in front of Beetle. At the sight of the young scribe, she smiled broadly. "You saved me." She said, in that airy light way that made Beetle feel very odd.

"I'm…I'm glad. I'm just sorry he did that. I don't even know what to say…You need to stay away from him, do you promise?"

Marissa laughed and the sound put Beetle in mind of the songbirds that filled his ears every morning before he rose to carry out his duties. It took him a minute to recall that her voluptuous body was almost entirely visible. He had been so concerned with what had just happened that he hadn't stopped to think about how she looked. He blushed suddenly. "I'll turn around, shall I? So that you can get dressed." Beetle was uncomfortable. What would happen now? Where would he take Marissa? Would she need a place to stay?

He waited for a few minutes to pass and then said, "Marissa, are you all right? May I turn around now?" There was no reply. Beetle turned around and found that he was alone in the alley. "Marissa!" he called, already knowing that there would be no answer. His heart sank into his stomach even though he willed it not to. She had left. She was gone and she had taken with her all that had seemed mystical about the dingy alley. Now it was just creepy. Just as he was about to depart the area, he noted that there were letters in the earth, much like the letters that had spelled his name in Wizard Way a few days before. They read _I love you, Beetle. If you love me too, come to edge of the Forest two weeks from today at five o'clock in the evening. _Beetle knelt down to touch the letters, compelled by the fact that her delicate fingers had so recently written these words. His head was full of her and all else was, momentarily at least, forgotten.

xxx

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Castle, a great conflict had broken out. The Wizards who were bold enough to object to the Queen's ideas were fighting in favor of the release of Simon Heap and so far, things were working in the Wizards' favor. The fact that they had **magykal** powers put those who supported the Queen and could not perform **magyk **at a distinct disadvantage. The conflict was still relatively small. Only small groups of Wizards were fighting the Queen's strictest followers. Simon Heap was among the Wizards and he was fighting for his life. By his side was Merrin Meredith, who, true to his word, had rescued the eldest Heap from Dungeon Number One. Nicko Heap was the only one who held back. He seemed not to side with either party. More than once, his father, Silas, had called for his help and he had refused to assist the Wizards in anyway. Nicko had a plan and it did not involve helping Silas or any of the other idiot Wizards who were frantically hurling **stunflashes **at Jenna's supporters. At last, the moment Nicko had been waiting for arrived. Jenna emerged, dressed in one of her fine evening gowns. She was followed by a very large platoon of guards covered in armor. At the appearance of the Queen, all fighting ceased.

Jenna was enraged. "Where is Simon Heap?" she demanded, "I want to see Simon Heap and all who supported him! How dare you defy your Queen? Is this how you repay my kindness to the people of the Castle?" She spotted Simon quickly and smiled and snapped her fingers at her guards. "Take them away. They're going to the dungeons. Return Simon to Dungeon Number One immediately and-Merrin Meredith!" Jenna had just caught sight of the lanky young man standing at the front of the crowd. She lowered her voice, "Was it you then? Was it you that freed him? Why?"

Merrin met Jenna's gaze but refused to answer her. Jenna shook her head in disgust. "He is a fiend! Tie him to the whipping post! Sixty lashes."

The guard adjacent to Jenna nodded sagely. No one said anything. Even though Merrin had gone to the trouble to spare Simon, the people of the Castle still didn't care enough to save him from receiving a number of lashes that would almost certainly kill him. He had been wrong. There was no salvation for him. There had never been a chance. He had been delusional. He was promptly tied to the whipping post on the Palace lawn and the violence commenced. The street was quiet as the Wizards, including Silas and JoJo, were lead away but Palace guards. Jenna noted that what her mother had said was true. No one truly objected to the Queen. They might object when she wasn't there but they wouldn't object in front of her. Her resolve to finish Marcia was strengthening with every second. The people of the Castle would approve of anything she did. It was foolproof. Jenna didn't stop to consider that the platoon of guards had probably intimidated the relatively small group of Wizards as well but if she had, it wouldn't have made a difference to her. The Wizards would not defy her. That was all that mattered.

As the Wizards were being lead away, one of the young men hurled a final **thunderflash** in the direction of the Jenna. Unfortunately for the young man, it missed Jenna by inches and hurtled past her at top speed, scorching the earth as it went. Jenna's eyes widened by this act of defiance, the very thing she had assumed she would never see. "You would kill your Queen?" she screamed. Her face was terrible and purple with anger.

Before the man could say anything, Nicko Heap leapt upon him and drove a knife into his back. The young Wizard gasped in pain but succeeded, with obvious difficulty, in pulling the knife out of his back and, rather than dropping it, he drove it into the lower half of Nicko's body.

Nicko's screams of pain were the worst sounds that anyone standing in Wizard Way had ever heard. Jenna, realizing that Nicko still supported her, rushed to his side at once and gathered her brother into her arms. "Jenna," he managed, "Oh Jenna.." and with that, he lost consciousness. Simon broke free of the grasp of the guard who was holding him prisoner and rushed to his brother's side. For a moment, Simon and Jenna were on the same team again. Both were trying to make sure that Nicko was okay. Their concern was interrupted by another voice screaming in pain. Merrin had finally given up his struggle to suppress his screams and he too was crying out as the lashes streaked blood across his pale back. As Merrin continued to cry out, another figure emerged from the shadows of Wizard Way. "Jenna, I command you to stop!" Marcia burst into the center of Wizard Way, followed closely by a group of the most senior Wizards and Septimus and Rose, who had just returned from their evening together.

Jenna looked at Marcia and laughed. "You can't command me to do anything."

"That, Jenna, is where you are wrong. I have dominion over the Wizards in the Tower. Unfortunately, Simon is not one of them but, a good number of these young people here are, in fact, Wizard Tower Wizards and I demand that you release them at once."

Yet another scream penetrated Wizard Way. "Whatever is going on?" Marcia inquired, striding toward the area from where the scream had emerged. It didn't take her long to recognize the boy on the whipping post. "Merrin Meredith!" she exclaimed.

Rose didn't wait for another word. At the mention of Merrin's name, she rushed at the whipping post and, with the speed of a jackrabbit, Rose inserted herself between the guard who had been whipping Merrin and Merrin himself. The guard stopped whipping immediately. Rose's voice wavered slightly, but there was confidence in her tone. "If you hit him, you'll have to hit me first. He has done nothing but what he felt was right. Will you punish him for that?"

The guard lowered the whip and, under the critical eye of Marcia Overstrand, untied Merrin from the post. Merrin attempted to stand for a moment, totally amazed by this turn of events. After a moment, though, it became apparent to him that he no longer possessed the strength to stand and he collapsed. Rose caught him and steadied him just before he fell to the ground. Merrin was trying to put coherent thoughts together. This angelic girl had saved him. She was nothing like the others. She cared. She was touching him. She didn't hate him. With these simple thoughts flowing through his mind, he allowed himself to slip in and out of consciousness while Rose used all of her strength to support him.

Marcia raised her lip in disgust. "I must say, I expected more from you, Jenna. No one is going to prison tonight, least of all Simon Heap. Nicko, Merrin, and this young man here shall be rushed to the Sick Bay at once where they will be tended to promptly. Everyone else will return home immediately. Is that clear?"

Jenna smirked. "They will not take orders from you, Marcia. I am their Queen."

It was Marcia's turn to sneer, something that Jenna had never actually seen her do before. "_You_ are their figurehead and you will turn them all against you with your tyrannical behavior. You're just like your idiot mother." With that, she turned her back to Jenna dismissively and everyone began following her instructions. It hit Jenna then. The people of the Castle would do her biding only if it was Marcia's bidding as well. It was really Marcia that pulled the strings, Marcia who ran the Castle. Cerys had been right. Marcia needed to be stopped. She could hear in the way that Marcia had referred to her mother as an idiot that what Cerys had said was true.

"Marcia," she said, attempting to make her voice as soothing as possible, "I think we need to talk. I…I guess I made some mistakes tonight."

"Indeed you did." Marcia sighed, "Well, at least you recognize that you need to acknowledge your foolish behavior. Come along. I wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway. How could I, with all of the trouble you have caused?"

Jenna muttered an apology but her mind was not on the conversation. She felt the weight of her mother's knife in her pocket and she knew that tonight was the night. She couldn't disappoint Cerys, not now.

Author's note: Thanks again for reading guys! I got asked a really good question earlier and I want to answer it here. The girl on the cover of this story is Marissa. :) Thanks again for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

AN:Thank you so much for reading and reviewing everyone! Remember, reviews are what keep me going! You guys are the best. You leave amazing comments. One thing I want to say upfront is that I apologize that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others. This week was really busy and a lot happened but I wanted to make sure that I still gave you something to read. To make up for that though, I am posting a small, 5,000 word chapter on Monday and another 10,000 word one on Wednesday or Thursday so you will get your fill of this story. I will have lots of free time next week so you can expect a lot. I don't know if that is good or bad. Hope it is good! Thanks for stopping by!

Chapter Three

Syrah Syara was unable to sleep. She had heard a bit from Rose about the violence that had occurred in the streets of the Castle just an hour before and she knew that Rose would be busy for the rest of the night, tending to those who had been injured gravely. Syrah sighed to herself. The Castle was changing so quickly. She felt it was apparent that Queen Jenna's reign was off to an especially bad start but she knew that there was little she could do about it. Syrah always did her best to remain out of politics. In her opinion, they only complicated the lives of the people in the Castle. Although she would never offer her opinion aloud, Syrah had been beginning to reach the conclusion that the Wizards were right to rebel. The idea of having a figurehead like the Queen in the city was a bit of a foolish one. The Queen wielded little real power other than the fact that the people loved her and that was, Syrah knew, the most dangerous power at all. The Wizards had run the Castle in the Queen's name for hundreds of years. It seemed only fitting that they desired credit for their efforts. As a Wizard herself, Syrah had been more than slightly offended by the obviously unjust arrest of Simon Heap but she had known that joining in a fight against the Queen would be futile. Everyone spoke of how Queen Jenna was rapidly establishing the fact that she was different from her predecessors. She had installed a large set of guards in front of the Palace that rendered the once cheery building a dark and gloomy place. It was puzzling to Syrah. Queen Jenna had never seemed the kindest sort to her but she had appeared cold rather than violent. She had never seemed to Syrah the sort of woman who would have guards stationed at every corner of the Palace. The thought had crossed Syrah's mind that perhaps the guards made the Queen feel safe. The memory of the assassination of her mother, Queen Cerys, surely came to her mind on a regular basis and that might have encouraged her to take further precautions against Wizards in general. Syrah wasn't certain. All she knew for sure was that Queen Jenna was a very difficult person to understand. At fifteen years old, she had succeeded in making herself an enigma to the people of the Castle, a perplexing girl of whom they were both enamored and afraid at once.

Syrah thrashed about in her bed, uneasiness and confusion overtaking her. She said a silent prayer that all of the people in the streets had survived that evening. She felt oddly isolated from all of it. This was her city, the Wizards were her people, and yet she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hoping for sleep that she already knew wouldn't come.

After a few more moments of exasperation, Syrah Syara pulled herself from bed and walked slowly toward the window next to her library that looked out over the river below. In the distance, she could just make out the immense shape of the Wizard Tower looming over the rest of the city's structures, making them look like mere toys in comparison. A smile played on her pouty lips. No building in the Castle, even the Palace, could compete with the majesty of the Wizard Tower. It was unmatched and it was beautiful. Following Syrah's recovery, she had spent some time in the Wizard Tower before moving to the Ramblings. She had informed Rose and her other friends when they asked that she found the Tower a bit overwhelming and preferred a quieter life in the Ramblings to the constant hubbub of the Tower. There was nothing at all false about this but there was another, more pressing reason that Syrah had felt that leaving the Wizard Tower was a necessary course of action.

During her brief time in the Wizard Tower, Syrah Syara had made two mistakes. One was that she had rejected the affections of Septimus Heap, an action that the Wizards of the Tower, all of whom thought much of Septimus, found especially foul and the other was that, according to the gossips of the Wizard Tower, Syrah Syara had developed "unnatural" feelings for Marcia Overstrand. Syrah had been assigned to the Pyramid Library in order to help Rose, who had just received an appointment there as well. It had been during their long hours together working in the library that the two girls had become close. It was also during that time that Syrah Syara had noticed Marcia. Syrah had never seen anyone like Marcia prior to waking in the Wizard Tower. She recalled vividly the initial moment that she had opened her eyes. Septimus had been there but she had expected that. The boy's devotion to her was almost unsettling in its nature. Beside Septimus had been a short, vaguely stout woman with wispy brown hair and a tall, elegant creature with long ebony curls, bright green eyes, and breathtakingly fair skin. This second woman had been dressed in the robes of an ExtraOrdinary Wizard and Syrah had fialed to stifle a gasp at the sight of her. When she had reached forward to touch Syrah's hand-perhaps to ensure her that she would not be harmed-Syrah had shivered under the feel of her long fingers brushing lightly over her skin. There was, she knew at once, something mystical about this ExtraOrdinary Wizard, this Marcia Overstrand. Her power and passion were palpable and, after months working in the Pyramid Library, Syrah found that she was only more taken with Marcia. She believed that there was more to the ExtraOrdinary Wizard than what met the eye and she had begun to delight in Rose and Septimus's stories about her. It had not beenoften that Syrah herself had worked up the courage to say something to Marcia herself and, if she did, it was always work related. Syrah had doubted if she would ever have the ability to do anything other than admire Marcia but she had relished even in her opportunity to do that.

As a child, Syrah Syara had been addicted to **magyk. **There had been something about it that had resonated with her even in the years before she had been able to practice it. Syrah had spent the first ten years of her life in an orphanage in the Ramblings until one of the adults overseeing her had informed the Wizard Tower that she had developed quite the talent for **magyk **and that she could be of use to the Wizarding community. Julius Pike, then ExtraOrdinary Wizard, had noticed the girl's remarkable talent very quickly and had asked her to be his apprentice. From that point forward, Julius had been a father to Syrah and she had wanted for nothing more. The only thing she had ever wondered was the question that no one, not even Julius, could answer. Syrah had no idea where she was from or who she was really was. At the time that she had been placed in the orphanage, she had been no more than a year old and the women working there had given her the name she had used her entire life. Syrah remembered that the other orphans had been able to talk about their parents but Syrah recalled nothing. All she knew was that someone had found her lying on a riverbank, shivering in the cold. Even though she tried desperately to keep her mind from wandering, Syrah couldn't help but try to imagine who her parents had been and why they had left her to die. In order to stop herself from frequently attempting to picture what her life might have been like if she had grown up with her parents as the majority of children in the Castle did, Syrah had thrown herself into **magyk **and she never regretted that. Until she met Marcia Overstrand, she had never known anyone with a love and passion for **magyk ** that exceeded her own. Marcia seemed to live for **magyk**- she was **magyk **incarnate and Syrah loved it. She knew that people were critical of Marcia but she had never been able to understand why that was. To Syrah, everything about Marcia was utterly appealing, even her quirky sense of style and bad temper were entirely tolerable.

However, Syrah Syara was no fool. She knew that Marcia Overstrand was not a woman with whom she would have a chance. She knew all about Marcia's feelings for Milo Banda and her overall devotion to her career and Syrah knew better than to interfere. With that said, she had no desire to make herself miserable either and her thoughts of Marcia were becoming so vivid and powerful that they were beginning to run her life. Everywhere she went, she found herself wishing she would run across Marcia, if only to have the chance to look at her for a few moments. Her infatuation was starting to control her entire life and Syrah knew that something had to be done and quickly. One day, Syrah had snuck into the duty Wizard's office just because she knew that there were pictures of all of the ExtraOrdinaries on the wall. Each picture had been taken on the day that the ExtraOrdinary Wizard had received his or her position. Marcia had only been twenty-five then. Her eyes had been red and, despite the smile on her lips, Syrah could tell she had not been happy. How could she have been, given all that had occurred? While Syrah had been gazing intently at the portrait, shamelessly admiring Marcia's form and figure in a way she never could have if Marcia had truly been in the room with her, she became suddenly aware of another woman standing in the room with her. At this realization, Syrah had jumped in surprise. Her heart, so full of emotion and love for Marcia, had sunk into her stomach at the sight of Hildegarde Pigeon, the duty Wizard, who had just returned early from lunch. Hildegarde had been surprised to find Syrah in her office but Syrah, unsure of what to say, had insisted that she had come to see Hildegarde. Before terribly long, the two women were engaged in a deep conversation and Syrah, who had never noticed small, seemingly dull Hildegarde with someone as brilliant and charismatic as Marcia so nearby, began to recognize that there were options for her after all, as long as she had the strength to stay away from the Wizard Tower and forget the ExtraOrdinary Wizard entirely. Thus Syrah had relocated to her small room in the Ramblings with its enchanting garden and immense library in order to escape from the allure of Marcia. She saw Hildegarde often and before terribly long, her feelings for the awkward yet charming young woman rivaled those she felt for Marcia. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true but what romance was perfect? No doubt that, had she obtained Marcia's love, she would have found some aspect of it disappointing. It would have been no more perfect than what she now shared with Hildegarde.

Syrah smiled as she thought of Hildegarde. She wished that she were there with her now. She was aware that Hildegarde likely had duties in the Tower to attend to after such a mad evening but she closed her eyes and imagined that it was just a casual evening in her room, an evening during which Syrah and Hildegarde would have nothing to do but lie in one another's arms, talk about their passions, and dream of their future.

As Syrah became lost in her fantasy, she heard an abrupt knock at the door. She froze, unsure of what to do. She was not dressed for company and, needless to say, she had not expected any at such a late hour. When her visitor rapped at the door a second time, Syrah knew that she had no option but to allow this person to enter her room. They clearly needed her attention. Syrah rushed to her bathroom, pulled on the long woolen robe that she wore during her long evenings reading by the fire, and cautiously opened the door.

The sight before her was one that gave her such a shock that she found herself physically unable to even scream. There, just outside her peaceful room in the very spot where her dear friend Rose had stood not two hours before, were five enormous Palace guards. Syrah played through the last few weeks in her mind. What had she done to attract such attention? She hadn't even taken part in the fighting that evening. What could they possibly want from her? Before Syrah could begin to speak, the shortest of the five guards answered all of her unspoken questions in what seemed to the distraught Syrah to be one, amazingly long breath.

"Miss Syara, you are under arrest for fraternizing with individuals of the same sex. You will come with us to the dungeons and your fate will be announced shortly there after."

Before Syrah could react, four of the enormous guards had their hands on her. She could feel one of them moving his large, paw of a hand down the curve of her thigh and horror and disgust filled her. She made an effort to break away from them but it ended quickly and in vain as the guards hit her repeatedly until she relented. When at last she had reluctantly relinquished all thoughts of escape, a single, pitiful word escaped her now bloody lips, "Why?"

The short, stout guard chuckled, "Why what, sweet cheeks?"

Syrah cringed but she willed her tears back. They couldn't see her cry, not like this. "Same sex relationships have always been a part of the Castle's every day life. Many people in the Castle do not prefer one sex to the other. Will you punish them all?"

The guard turned to Syrah and seemed to grin at the sight of the trickle of blood running down her tawny cheek. "It is the wish of the Queen that only bonds between men and women exist in the Castle. This Castle belongs to your Queen and you must respect her wishes. You are a Wizard, she is the Queen." He brought his filthy hand up to caress Syrah's face. Syrah, bound as she was, could do nothing, "You're a pretty thing," he said in a husky tone, "Surely you can find one man that interests you."

Syrah thought of Hildegarde and how much fun they had had with one another during the last few months, how she often wondered whether or not she was falling in love with her, she thought of the immense, uncontrollable feelings that elegant Marcia had evoked in her, and lastly, she thought of Rose, Rose with her bright, loving eyes and warm heart. She remembered perfectly what Rose had said to her so many times. "You are who you are meant to be. There is nothing wrong with who you are and what you prefer. Your lovers don't define you, Syrah. They don't define anyone at all."

With Rose's words in her mind and the love of Hildegarde in her heart, Syrah felt strength grow inside of her. "I will not repent for the manner in which I have lived my life. I have loved others, nothing more. There is no shame in love of any kind. Our Queen is mad to think so."

The guards glanced at one another in disbelief. It was the ultimate blasphemy to refer to the Queen as mad and yet Syrah Syara seemed entirely unbothered by what she had just done. The stout guard's face was nearly purple with anger and, even in her current state of fear, Syrah was amused to see that she had aroused such a reaction in him. Unfortunately, her amusement was short lived. "Take her away, boys!" the man shouted, "She'll be humiliated at dawn. She has earned it."

With that, he turned away from Syrah and the other four guards started to pull her down the long alleyway and out of the Ramblings. She continued to fight them, doing anything she could to get them to let her go but she was beginning to realize that it truly was futile. No one in the Ramblings would risk going to the dungeons to help her. She was entirely on her own and she had no idea what it meant to be "humiliated." She had never heard of such. There had been a number of public floggings during the last few years, such as the one Merrin Meredith had been subjected to the previous evening, but women were never flogged. As Syrah was dragged to the dungeons, just as Simon Heap had been a few weeks before, the pit of dread in her stomach grew with each step she was forced to take. She knew that whatever was in store for her would be frightful indeed.

xxx

Not far away, in the Wizard Tower Sick Bay, Merrin Merdith was allowing Rose to bandage the remarkable wounds that now covered his back. He felt dismal just thinking about those wounds. Merrin had always found his physical appearance disagreeable and he knew that the scars he had received would only make it worse than it had been before. Tonight, he truly felt stupid. He had expected that he could make the people of the Castle love him once more with one heroic act but he had had been wrong. They had all turned away from him. Why shouldn't they have? He was the reason that so many of their kin were dead. He deserved the ugly scars, he deserved the pain and the horror of it all, and he deserved to have to watch as a very disturbed look covered Rose's beautiful face while she tended to the parts of his body that had been injured. Of course she found him disgusting-that was fitting. No one as pure and lovely as Rose ought to have anything at all to do with him. The more he thought about it, the more Merrin became convinced that it would be better if Rose did not save him. His wounds would fester and he would die. The people of the Castle would be free of him and his mother would no longer have to live with the burden of knowing that her son had endangered the entire Castle in a selfish tantrum and was the reason for the deaths of innocents. He knew that his mother would never admit it, so glad was she to have him back in her life, but she was disappointed in his actions and probably always would be. With this thought in his head, Merrin found the courage to focus his deep grey eyes on Rose's bright green ones. "Leave me alone," he said gruffly, "You're wasting your time."

Rose's eyes widened in surprise. "Merrin, what are you talking about? I'm not wasting even a bit of my time. If I do not see to your wounds now, they could become infected and you'd almost certainly die. In my opinion, you were lucky to have survived the flogging at all. Just relax. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Rose smiled and there was a tenderness in that smile that made Merrin feel as though perhaps all of his worries were for naught, perhaps he could eventually be redeemed in the eyes of the Castle. Rose, for some reason, held no grudge against him. She cared for him, even seemed to like him. Suddenly, his memory brought him back to the events of the evening and he remembered Rose throwing her tiny, graceful body between the man who had been hitting him and the post on which he had been tied. She had told that man that if he intended to kill Merrin, he would have to kill her first. A burst of warmth spread throughout Merrin's entire body. Had that moment even been real? It had been comparable to being rescued by an angel after a night of being beaten in hell. It hardly seemed real to him. What had drawn Rose to value his life in such a way? He had done nothing but cause the Castle pain and she had every reason to hate him. So, with his mind plagued with confusion and his heart happy, Merrin managed, "Why did you do it? You could have been killed. The Queen would have had you killed as well. She doesn't care for Wizards. She put her own brother in jail, you know."

Rose nodded. "Yep, I know. You were very brave to go and fetch him but that isn't the only reason I wanted to save you." Rose sighed, "Merrin, you're a very good person. Before you object, I want to make you aware that I don't simply hand out compliments to people who don't deserve them. When you were here at the Tower a few months ago, I noticed the way you acted around others. You couldn't look any of us in the eye. There was guilt written all over every part of you. I resented you, Merrin, before you came to stay with us. I resented you the same way every other person in the Castle did but it didn't take me long to realize that I was wrong. There was one day that really stuck with me…" Rose paused, as though lost in the memory. Merrin was breathless with excitement but he did his best to conceal the fact. Had Rose really noticed him as he had noticed her? That didn't seem possible to him. People like Rose, at the very least, felt sorry for Merrin and at the most they despised him. None of them had ever taken an interest in his character.

Rose went on. "It was one of the last mornings you spent here. One of the elderly Wizards was struggling to get on to the stairs. I was getting ready to walk over to her and help her but you beat me there. I had always thought that there was something different about you. People had told me all about you but when I looked into your eyes, I never saw any of the evil so many people here describe. I'm not sure that I ever really believed in that kind of evil anyway." Rose laughed a little and Merrin was unable to prevent what DomDaniel would have called a stupid grin from crossing his face. Rose noted the pleasure in his visage and blushed slightly, a sight which caused Merrin to blush as well and, for a moment, there was silence in the little Sick Bay room. Rose cleared her throat. "Anyway, when you helped that woman and I saw the look of relief on her face and the look of happiness on yours-happiness at being able to do something good, I'm sure-I just knew you were a good person. The trouble is, no one gave you a chance. It is like Marcia says. People that dapple in the **darke **often aren't evil. The **darke **just preys on their sadness until it consumes them."

Merrin looked down at his left hand where his thumb should have been. Rose was right. The **darke **had taken his thumb from him, his childhood from him, and his pride from him. Without warning, tears sprang to his eyes. He had been waiting his whole life for someone to say to him what Rose had just said. He had wanted someone to understand and no one ever had, not until now. He had never wanted to cause the level of pain that he had caused for others. He still recalled what it had been like to be a frightened, trapped child, raised by the cold hearted, vengeful necromancer. He had learned hate. He had been taught to hate and to fear. The humiliation his tears brought to him was unbearable and he turned away from Rose. "Leave me alone." He snapped, more harshly than he had meant, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Rose was practical and calm. "Yes, I do." She said simply and surprised Merrin by reaching under his chin and turning his face back to meet hers. "I know that I'm right about this. Marcia believes it too. She knows why you are the way that you are. It is why she didn't have you killed last winter. It wasn't really your fault, Merrin."

Merrin gulped in an effort to suppress another round of ridiculous tears. What was the matter with him? He could not recall the last time he had cried. Not even the wretched lashes he had received had been enough to bring him to tears and yet this girl was? Her words were? It made no sense at all. "You shouldn't be talking to me this way." He said at last, "You're being foolish."

Rose shook her head in exasperation. "No, Merrin, you're being foolish for not heeding what I say. Would I have risked my life to save you if I didn't think you were a good person? I know that you are. I can feel it when I'm near you." Rose made eye contact with Merrin against his will and lowered her voice, "Merrin, I know it was you at the masquerade ball. I knew it was you when you grasped my hand."

Merrin opened and closed his mouth like a fish but could find nothing to say. She had guessed! This was the worst of all possible situations. If she recalled what he had said to her at all, she would likely remember how excited her had been to kiss her hand and how foolishly he had behaved. Merrin tried to put his head in his hands but as he did so, he shifted his weight onto his back and had to resist the powerful urge to cry out in pain. Rose, who understand much about injuries after spending so much time in the Sick Bay, knew perfectly well that Merrin was in excruciating pain. "Lie on your stomach." She commanded. Merrin did not object. At least, if he were lying face down, Rose would be unable to see the tears, both brought on by his emotions and by his physical pain, that were now leaking from his eyes. He was such an awkward fool. He should have known that coming to the ball would only bring more trouble to him. How had he been so very stupid? He just wished he could vanish forever. No, he wished he had never been born at all.

It was as this thought occurred to him that Merrin felt the soft touch of Rose's hands against the skin of his back. She was tenderly rubbing the medicine into his wounds now, which stung initially but very quickly brought relief to him. After a few moments of feeling her hands on him, his mind drifted and he began to stop worrying. Before terribly long, his mind was void of anything sans the sensation of her touching him so sweetly. After some time had passed, Rose's hands began to move further up Merrin's back, slightly above where the last of his wounds lay. She started to rub his shoulders and made the observation that his muscles were very tight indeed. She sighed in sympathy and silently wished that one day, she would see this young man when he was no longer so tense and so filled with self loathing. She hoped that one day, he would see in himself what she saw in him. Perhaps one day he would look into a mirror and see his true self, rather than the version of Merrin everyone else insisted existed.

Rose and Merrin were each enjoying themselves. Rose was enjoying her ability to give this troubled young man a sense of peace and relief and Merrin, in turn, was finally turning himself over to Rose and allowing her to heal him in body and spirit. He had thought of her for months now and he could scarcely believe that she was touching him now. Her skin was on his, her genuine admiration for him palpable. All at once, Merrin didn't care if the entire Castle hated him as long as this one, wonderful person did not. "Thank you." Merrin muttered.

"Why are you thanking me?" Rose asked, "I'm telling you the truth."

Merrin didn't reply. Rose filled the silence. She bent down so that her lips were inches from his ear. "I liked it that you came to the ball. I was glad when you came back to find me. I had thought about you since you left…more than I wanted to admit. I kept thinking about the day that you helped that nice old lady. I wanted everyone to see the version of you, I saw. You're a special person, Merrin."

Merrin gasped. All his life he had been called all manner of horrible things but never once had he been special. Yet now, with Rose beside him, he felt it. He was special but special in his way. He was special because Rose cared about him. Unable to help himself, Merrin turned to Rose so that they were facing one another. He ignored the pain in his back, overcome by the emotions welling inside of him. Without thinking, he brought his lips toward hers. To his amazement, she didn't pull away. He brought a hand to her cheek somewhat cautiously, but she permitted it. His lips had nearly reached hers when a voice called, "Hey, what the hell is going on in here?" and Septimus Heap entered the Sick Bay room.

xxx

On the other side of the Sick Bay, Nicko Heap too was recovering from the trauma he had endured after being stabbed badly below his waist. His injuries were not looking good. Although it was becoming apparent to Dandra Draa that Nicko would survive the injury, it was more detrimental than Dandra had initially realized. She was shaking her head in dismay when Bo Tenderfoot, Dandra's assistant, entered the room. Bo, an intelligent, careful young woman with carroty hair, had recently taken up her post in the Wizard Tower but she already knew Dandra well enough to know when things weren't going well. "What is it?" she asked, glancing at Nicko with much sadness in her eyes. She remembered the Heaps very well from her childhood. She had been very good friends with Queen Jenna, in fact, and she could not even imagine what had led her to become so angry. She had always been calm and practical when they were girls. She had possessed the air of a natural leader and Bo was shocked by her behavior now. Did Jenna honestly believe that the people of the Castle would merely accept her actions just because she was Queen? The people of the Castle would not be lead by a fool, that was certain. When Bo got a closer look at Dandra, she noticed that there were tears in the older woman's eyes and she felt very afraid. Never before had she seen Dandra become emotional about any of their patients. "What is it?" She repeated impatiently. "He will recover, won't he?"

Dandra nodded. "Yes, but he might be better off if he didn't."

Bo was horrified. She recalled that Nicko had always been the most fun of all the Heap brothers. She had loved the manner in which he had teased her and the way in which he had always paid attention to her when she came to visit, even when the rest of Jenna's brothers acted as though she wasn't there at all. "What do you mean? What has happened to Nicko, Dandra?"

Dandra turned away from her assistant. "Nicko will not father children. Never." She said bluntly and it took a moment for Bo to realize what Dandra meant. Once she had, her eyes filled with tears of dismay. "No." she said softly, "Oh no" and she too found that her cheeks were wet with tears of dismay and pity at the thought of a young man so full of life being made to endure such a disgusting and bitter injury for the rest of his life. Dandra and Bo could not even imagine the affect that that injury was to have on Nicko. The entire course of his life would change as a result of it.

xxx

A few floors above Dandra and Bo, Marcia Overstrand was in the middle of a heated discussion with Queen Jenna. "Jenna," Marcia was saying, "as Queen, you cannot permit people to have such dangerous riots in our streets. Tonight, you have not only permitted such behavior from our citizens, you have promoted it. The Castle is a peaceful place. Will you really risk peace in this way? What did Simon do that offended you so? I must say that I find it difficult to disguise my confusion on this matter. Clearly, the Wizards of the Tower desired Simon's freedom but I fail to understand why you were holding him captive in the first place." Marcia tapped the pen she was holding against the side of her desk impatiently. "Enlighten me. I'm more than a little curious."

Jenna's face was emotionless, unreadable, and Marcia was secretly impressed. When had Jenna developed the ability to keep others from reading her thoughts? Even though she was not **magykal, ** Jenna had succeeded in building a wall against Marcia in her mind, a bit of a **mindscreen** created by her sheer willpower alone and therefore, Marcia found it impossible to detect Jenna's thoughts. It was as though something about Jenna was rendering her **magyk **slow and she felt quite spooked by it. Marcia decided to try a less aggressive approach. "Jenna," she stated, "I can tell that you are troubled. I know that it is hardly easy to become a Castle dignitary at such a young age. You are even younger than I was and you have already accepted a marriage proposal and begun to lead the people relatively effectively. I just-"

Jenna cut her off. "It isn't your business why I arrested Simon. I'm the Queen now, Marcia, I do as I please. You are so condescending. Don't you realize it does nothing to improve our situation? It certainly doesn't make me enjoy spending time with you more. You're an absolute bitch. Everyone hates you here and they love me, you'll see. If you want to maintain your position as ExtraOrdinary Wizard, you will stay out of my business. You are replaceable. I, however, am not."

Marcia was as near to speechless as she ever got. Jenna's audacity shocked her more and more with every passing second. She attempted to push the fact that Jenna had just brought a few of her insecurities to the light-the fact that she believed the people of the Castle were less than fond of her and that she was indeed replaceable-to the back of her mind for the moment. She had to deal with Jenna's behavior and deal with it quickly or else there would be more horrific consequences, no doubt. Marcia was determined to reach the root of Jenna's problems. "You and I never had problems with one another until recently. What is it that is troubling you so terribly much? I would rather discuss it than allow violence to break out in the streets of the Castle."

Jenna appeared bored. "Violence will happen whether you permit it or not, Marcia. It is the way of the Castle, the way of the world."

Marcia stopped suddenly. She knew she had heard these words before, long ago when she had been much younger. She had heard them during a brief but pivotal conversation with Jenna's mother, Queen Cerys, more than sixteen years previously, before Jenna had even been born. All at once, she understand what it was that was plaguing Jenna's mind in such a terrible way. "You've been speaking to your mother, haven't you?" Marcia asked, "Jenna, your mother was a good Queen but….well, I think it is time you know that there were some things about her that were slightly…unusual. You cannot take your mother's words to heart at all times. Please do talk to her as I'm positive that her guidance shall offer you comfort right now but you mustn't listen to everything she says. She isn't like you. She wasn't quite as thoughtful."

Jenna laughed bitterly. "You would say that, wouldn't you? After all, you were the one that wanted her gone most of all, weren't you? Ah yes, you couldn't wait to see her gone. My poor, beautiful mother was standing in the way of you obtaining my father all for yourself, wasn't she? Don't interrupt me, Marcia, I know the story! But you know what? My father wanted my mother, not you, and he'd still want my mother if she were still here now. Instead of accepting the fact that you weren't beautiful or charming enough for him and finding someone who could put up with your ridiculous behavior, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You contacted DomDaniel and ordered my mother's death. Don't think I don't know. You killed my mother, Alther, and you ruined my father all because of your selfish, obsessive lust and now you have shamelessly taken up with my father when he was never yours to claim! He belongs to my mother alone. I can't say I'm surprised though. Do you think about it, Marcia? When Milo is kissing your throat or telling you that you're _beautiful? _Do you remember that you stole from my poor dead mother when Milo is in you-"

"Stop it right now!" Marcia cried but it was, to Jenna's ears, a cry of pain as much as a cry of annoyance. This was, to Jenna, further confirmation of her mother's words. As if she had truly needed more confirmation…."Jenna, where on earth did you learn to talk this way? I will not tolerate it. You sound like a foolish, foul mouthed child and nothing more. You are better than this, I just know it. You wouldn't care at all that I am involved with Milo if your mother hadn't placed these foolish notions in your head."

"They aren't foolish!" Jenna screamed, her anger reaching a boiling point. "You're a fool, Marcia, not my mother. You prance around in your stupid little shoes and think that the Castle will take you seriously even though you are petrified of anything to do with **Darke Magyk**. You're a terrible ExtraOrdinary Wizard. I don't know what my father sees in you but it isn't your ability to lead people."

Marcia flinched in spite of herself and bit her lip but she did her best to forget Jenna's comments, if only for a moment. "Jenna, what your mother has told you is not true. This is precisely what I was talking about. Cerys was never one to be perfectly honest. She had a bit of a flare for the dramatic and, as you can imagine, she never cared much for me. What I want you to recognize is that I _do _care for you. Do you honestly think I want you dead, Jenna? If I had, you would have been dead long ago. I have saved many, many times, starting on the day on which you were born, for heaven's sake!"

"You never saved me out of anything but a desire to keep Milo Banda's daughter alive. You hated my mother. You hated her so much that you wanted her dead. Do you know how that makes me feel, Marcia? You're a monster."

Marcia was becoming desperate. "You aren't listening to anything I am saying. Why is it that only your mother's words make any sense to you? She is lying! You are right when you say that I disapprove of **darke magyk. ** Why then would I dapple in it at all? If there was one matter on which Alther placed emphasis during our tutorials it was blocking out **darke magyk**. I am adept at it. I have no desire to have anything to do with **darke magyk ** and I never have had the desire." Jenna was amazed by the desperation in Marcia's voice. This powerful woman whom some tiny, weak part of Jenna had always admired greatly was now pleading with her. Jenna grinned. Even Marcia would fall on her knees before the Queen. It was the right way, the only way the Castle would succeed. There could only be one leader.

But the fact that Marcia was pleading with her confused Jenna. There was something so honest about the way that Marcia was speaking. Jenna could not recall when Marcia had last been so open with her. There was a kind of sadness in her glittering green eyes that Jenna struggled to interpret. For a moment, she stared at Marcia, trying to see her through Milo's eyes. She was elegant certainly, quirky, charming, and in her way, beautiful. For some reason she couldn't put into words, the acknowledgment of the fact that Marcia was attractive just rendered Jenna angrier than she had been before and all traces of her sympathy for Marcia vanished. Marcia had taken Milo from Cerys and she had gone to great lengths to do so. Jenna's fury continued to grow as she recalled a night about a month earlier when Marcia and Milo had been standing on the Palace Lawns, talking. Jenna had known that neither one of them had been aware of the fact that she had listened to their conversation and thus neither Marcia nor Milo knew of its effect on her. Milo had been holding Marcia's hand in his and she had been leaning against him with her face pressed against his neck. It had been very late-no doubt they had both believed that they were entirely alone-and milo's free hand had been entirely too close to Marcia's backside for Jenna's taste. Jenna still remembered what he had said, those unbearably corny words that had so delighted Marcia to hear them, "What spell did you put me under, my dear? What did you do to win my heart so completely? I fear sometimes that I will never get it back. I'm not sure that I want it back. I want to say here in your arms forever, my beautiful, sweet Marcia. I love you, I love you so much."

Jenna had been unable to imagine Marcia's response to such a ridiculous confession and she hadn't stayed to hear it either. She had departed immediately and rushed to her bedroom in a horrible temper. She felt that temper returning to her now in Marcia's rooms. Marcia had tricked her father and gotten exactly what she had wanted. Jenna could control herself no longer. With a cry of anger, Jenna pulled the knife from her pocket and screamed, "For you mother!" as she drove it deep into Marcia's flesh. Marcia, too utterly shocked, looked at Jenna with a mixture of dismay, pain, and hurt in her eyes and as she glanced down to the knife embedded in her side and recognized what it was, she released a sound that was half a groan, half a sob. With that she collapsed to the floor. Just as she did so, there was a knock on the door and Milo Banda's voice called, "Marcia? Marcia, darling, are you still awake?"

AN: DUN DUN DUN! Thanks again guys! On monday, we will visit beetle and find out what Syrah's "humiliation" is. Stay tuned.


	4. Chapter 4

_For Jeff_-_one of the few truly selfless people in my life who cared enough to be there for me always. I told you things that I doubt I'll ever tell anyone else and I'll never forget all you did for me. I just wish I had been able to do more in return. I miss you and I'm so sorry. _

AN: Thanks for reviewing, guys. I am loving your comments. They're so thoughtful. There is some dark content in this chapter but I think it is important. I want to warn everyone through that the content in this chapter alone may be worse than T as one of thr characters goes through a lot and that causes her to see things from an irrational point of view which is part of the story. If anyone gets offended though, you don't have to read it. I hope you enjoy this. One of you was really sweet and asked for a Marcellus/Marcia/Milo love triangle. That wasn't one of my original intentions for this story but it will fit and it seems to mean a lot to you so I have included it. Marcellus/Marcia is a little one sided of course but I explored it a bit here. This chapter is most housekeeping and not all that exciting but I've been really sick this week so that is probably part of it I promise that the next one is more exciting. Something really important happens in chapter five actually so stay tuned. You guys are the best!

Chapter Four

Queen Jenna had created a very difficult situation for herself. Marcia Overstrand was bleeding on the floor, just as she had intended but she most certainly had not intended for her father, Milo Banda, to arrive just in time to see his lover sprawled out on the floor and Jenna standing over her, like a mad dog with a kill. Jenna noted with a grimace that Marcia's purple door had recognized Milo. Perhaps it had made a habit of allowing him to enter her chambers at such a late hour. She shuddered. She could tell by the expression on Milo's face that he was entirely shocked. For the queerest moment, Jenna felt as though she was seeing Milo through another's eyes. All of a sudden, he was not her handsome, lovably ridiculous father but rather her lover and the man for whom she had given up everything, the man who no longer wanted her. Jenna's violet eyes narrowed and the deepest misery she had ever encountered invaded her breast as she looked into Milo's eyes and saw, without a doubt, that he did indeed love Marcia, in his way at least.

Jenna shook herself, shocked by the feelings she had just experienced. What had happened? It was almost as though she had briefly seen Milo the way that her mother, Cerys, would have seen him. But that wasn't possible, was it? Cerys wasn't there with her. There was no way that a ghost could inhabit someone's mind in such a way. Surely Septimus would have told her long ago if something like that were possible. It was something she would have found interesting to discuss. She concluded that she had so much admiration for Cerys that it had led her to imagine the way her mother had regarded her father during her life, it could be nothing more than that.

A moan of anguish filled the silence of the room and Jenna was swiftly brought back to reality. She glanced down and saw Marcia sprawled out on the floor in a most undignified manner with the royal knife buried in her side. Jenna gasped, as though seeing the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's injury for the first time. She saw sticky crimson liquid pooling out around Marcia and, with a jolt, she realized what she had done.

Milo was horrified. "Marcia, oh Marcia, what has happened to you?" Milo looked up at his daughter, not daring to think what the scene before him obviously implied. To Jenna's amazement, Marcia came to her rescue.

"Milo…" she managed, "Milo..the knife she has…Cerys gave it to her..it allows Cerys to enter her mind…to a d-degree." Marcia's voice faltered, "I don't know why she wanted this but it isn't Jenna's fault."

Milo shook his head in disbelief, knelt down and pulled Marcia close to his chest, as though he wished to shield her from the world and its horrors. Jenna could see in his face that he was wondering why his deceased wife would want to punish Marcia in such a way but did not ask. His focus was on sparing his lover's life. The effects of the alcohol he had consumed earlier in the evening had very nearly worn off and he could again think clearly. "Jenna," he started, "Go and get Marcellus Pye. Only he will be able to help Marcia. You must set right what you have done."

Something in Milo's tone seemed patronizing to Jenna and she felt her anger return completely. All at once, she no longer felt alone. Whenever she experienced the most extreme bouts of anger, she felt as though there were someone there with her, egging her on. Marcia's breathless words came back to her. Was it possible that her mother could be there encouraging her? Jenna shook her head, reminding herself that it didn't matter. Either way, she was doing the right thing. Cerys only wanted what was best for her, Milo just didn't understand. She had no intention of getting Marcellus Pye. Quick as a flash, Jenna knelt down and pulled the knife out of Marcia's side. The blood puddle that had been surrounding Marcia's torso grew very quickly into a notably larger puddle and the ExtraOrdinary Wizard bit her lip in order to keep from crying out in pain.

"Jenna," Milo bellowed, "Jenna, where do you think you're going?"

Jenna paused, bloody knife in hand, and forced herself to make eye contact with her father. Milo shivered visibly as, unbeknownst to Jenna, he found himself staring into Cerys's violet eyes rather than Jenna's. "You'll understand someday." She said softly. "It would be wrong to save her. I will not punish you, Milo. You are merely confused. You'll see the light once more. I still remember what it felt like the first night you laid you hands on me. You told me that I was all that you would ever want. You will have me again someday if only you have faith in that." Jenna jerked, as though waking from a wild dream and uncertain of what she had just said.

Milo looked terrified. "Cerys?" he asked tentatively, "Cerys, is that you?"

Jenna looked back at Milo, feeling as scared as her father looked. She turned and fled in an effort to leave the Tower as quickly as she possibly could. She knew that she had to return to the Palace. Marcia would surely die now and there would be no one to question her. No one questions the queen for long, her mother had said. With this thought in her mind, Jenna fled.

Marcia was losing consciousness quickly but Milo knew that she had been right. Cerys had some kind of hold over Jenna. But why would she do this to Marcia? He knew Cerys had been irritable at times but he had never envisioned that she would be jealous enough to use his precious daughter as a tool to hurt the woman he loved. Milo had always hoped that Marcia and Jenna would eventually develop a close relationship but now, that seemed to be an impossibility. Milo was still shaken by the night's events. Never before had he approached a woman the way that he had approached Marissa Lane a few hours earlier and he was quite unsettled. There was something irresistible about that girl but she wasn't his Marcia. Sweet, quirky, charming Marcia was dying in his arms. He frantically fought the tears that were forming in his throat. He longed to fetch Marcellus but he couldn't bear to leave Marcia alone, not in this state.

"Milo," she started weakly and, to his surprise, she extended her long fingers to caress his cheek. Milo could bear it no longer. His eyes filled with tears. He had never hated himself more. He had, this night, been unfaithful to Marcia. He had taken her for granted when she was really all that he wanted. Milo knew that he had always had a difficult time remaining faithful to a single woman. He had preferred Marcia to all other women for some time now but that did not end his temptation. When he got what he wanted, he always wanted more. And now, Marcia, the one thing he had wanted more than anything else in the world, was dying and there was nothing he could do.

"Darling, I'm so sorry." He choked, finding it difficult to speak. "You're not going to die, I'm going to save you. I'll find a way. I love you, Marcia. You know that don't you?"

Even in her terrible state, Milo could see that hearing him speak to her this way brought her pleasure. "Milo…I…" but she didn't finish. Blood oozed from her belly and she winced in pain. As she did so, Septimus entered the room.

"Milo!" he exclaimed, "What the devil is going on?"

Milo shook his head. "No time to explain. Just get Marcellus and quickly."

Septimus looked down and saw Marcia, helpless on the floor. Never before had he even fathomed that his strong, powerful mentor could be reduced to such a state. "What happened to her?" he demanded. "Who did this to her? Marcia, I'm here. Its Septimus." Septimus knelt down and grasped Marcia's hand in his. In response, she squeezed it firmly, just as he had expected her to. He permitted himself a grim smile before repeating his question. "Milo, who did this?"

Milo shook his head. "There is no time. Go Septimus. Not even you can heal her wounds now."

Septimus had to grudgingly acknowledge that Milo had, for once, said something accurate. He brought Marcia's fingers to his lips and kissed them before standing up, dusting off his green apprentice robes, and doing a **transport** to Marcellus's home, right before Milo's eyes. Once Septimus was gone, Milo turned to look at Marcia and found that there was a smile on her lips.

xxx

Marcia Overstrand did recover under the watch of Marcellus Pye. The alchemist remained at the Tower for almost two weeks, leaving the Great Chamber of Alchemie and Physik in the hands of his apprentice, Simon. Marcia's condition had been grave indeed. But when people questioned Milo Banda and eventually Marcia about her injuries, the story was always the same. A crazed Wizard who had believed that the arrest of Simon Heap was a necessity had rushed into the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's rooms and brutally stabbed her. The Wizard, following the attack, had vanished. If anyone found this story suspicious, they did not indicate it. The only individual who was positive it was a complete and utter lie was Marcellus Pye. Marcellus still recalled with perfect clarity the conversation he had had with the young Queen just a few days prior. He remembered that she had insisted that the murder of Marcia was a necessary action. He hadn't taken her seriously at the time. He had doubted Jenna's ability to go through with such a ghastly task. However, she had surprised him in the worst possible way. He had every intention of going to speak to Jenna about what he knew had occurred as soon as Marcia healed. He hoped that the young Queen was now aware of the fact that the Castle would not accept her every action. The only reason they were tolerating her now was that Marcia had told a lie on her behalf, to protect her. The idea baffled Marcellus. Why would Marcia have done that? Jenna had nearly cost her her life. With that said, in the strangest of ways, Jenna had freed Marcellus.

Almost since Simon had become his apprentice, Marcellus had thought of little but the younger man and what it would be like to have a relationship with him. Of course, Marcellus had dismissed the idea on account of the fact that Simon was about to become a father and had only recently married Lucy Gringe. Now, after two weeks with Marcia Overstrand, Marcellus Pye was admitting, if only to himself, that his feelings for the ExtraOrdinary Wizard were not entirely platonic either. Following his reinstatement as the Castle Alchemist, Marcellus had found himself more and more in awe of Marcia despite the natural disdain he had always felt for her. Her admired her optimism and, much like Syrah Syara had, her passion for what she did as well. After forming a professional relationship with Marcia, Marcellus had come to find her very tolerable most of the time and, during the last few weeks, he had found that he was drawn to her, even charmed by her. This initially bothered him more than he liked to admit but eventually he gave into it. He knew that he didn't have to act on his affection for Marcia anymore than he had to acknowledge the feelings he experienced when he was near Simon Heap. As much as some part of Marcellus wanted to pursue these new feelings that were budding within him, he knew that romance of any kind would only complicate his life and, at his age, Marcellus felt it was complicated enough.

One afternoon, exactly two weeks after Marcia had received her injury, Marcellus was still waiting for her to wake. She had been sleeping much longer than usual. He was beginning to become concerned. He knew that, if she didn't awake in the next few hours, there was probably something very wrong with her. That did not bear thinking about. He glanced down at the sleeping figure before him. Marcia looked, for the first time since he had met her, entirely peaceful. There were no signs of the everyday stresses she endured marking her visage, no sign of the signature scowl she wore nearly every time she so much as looked at Marcellus in her daily life. She was calm, lovely, a sleeping beauty.

As this thought occurred to Marcellus he found himself unable to resist temptation. The words, "sleeping beauty" had brought to his mind the old legend that was often told to the Castle children, the story of the woman who is doomed to sleep for countless years until the man she loves kisses her. Marcellus sighed. If only such a tale could be true. If only Marcia Overstrand would awaken when Marcellus kissed her delicious, pouty lips…..if only he were the man that Marcia loved. Marcellus was through attempting to shake himself. He knew the fact that he felt for Marcia was entirely undeniable and he could no longer force the thoughts from his head. At first, Marcellus had been frustrated with himself, asking himself how these feelings had developed seemingly out of no where. However, after looking back over the past few months, Marcellus had to admit that he had been suppressing some form of romantic feelings for some time. Even the day that he had feared she had fallen from the top of the Great Chamber of Alchemie to her death, he had acknowledged to himself that the Castle would be utterly dull without Marcia. Perhaps it had been that day that his feelings had begun to blossom. Regardless, it didn't matter. His feelings for Marcia, though embarrassing, were more acceptable than those he had for Simon Heap, not only because of Simon's marriage but because of the manner in which the Queen was arresting those who had feelings for those of the same sex.

He looked at her once again, willing her to come to life, to be the energetic, passionate, ambitious woman who always seemed to fill all of the space around her and then some. He tightened his grip on her hands, as if this might give her the strength to come back to life. After a moment, he lifted Marcia's hand and examined it more closely. It was, like the rest of her skin, unbelievably fair. Marcellus smiled as he looked at it. It seemed fitting that Marcia, who never placed physical appearance and other trivialities before her career, would have prettier skin than all of those beautiful women in the Ramblings. Surely any woman with tawny skin would envy Madam Overstrand what she possessed. Her fingers were slender and smooth and it amazed Marcellus to think that these very fingers were capable of casting such powerful spells. They seemed so innocent, even sweet. Unable to help himself, Marcellus raised Marcia's surprisingly dainty hand to his lips and kissed it passionately, much as Septimus had the day Jenna had harmed her. At last, he placed it back on the bed and began to look at her more intently.

There were signs that made him hopeful. Her cheeks were beginning to develop a slightly rosy hue that they had not had just an hour before. Color was always a good sign. Marcellus couldn't help thinking that Marcia's cheeks themselves resembled rose petals. Without thinking about what he was doing, Marcellus leaned forward and placed yet another kiss on Marcia's right cheek. He shuddered as he did so. It was soft, like velvet. It had been so terribly long since Marcellus Pye had experienced the touch of a woman that he had forgotten that their soft skin was actually pleasant, desirable. Marcellus was once again astounded that such an ambitious, powerful woman could have such a delicate body. He removed his lips from her cheek and placed his finger there in its place. Then, ever so slowly, he began to run his finger along the edge of her jaw until he reached her throat. As he took in the sight of the alabaster skin which covered her neck, he began to imagine what it would look like to see that very skin with a deep cut through it, as Queen's were meant to cut the throats of unpopular ExtraOrdinaries. Marcellus shook his head with dismay. How had he convinced himself that Jenna would not go through with her plan? With this thought haunting him, he retreated to the window on the opposite side of the room.

Thirty minutes later, Marcia Overstrand blearily opened her eyes and wondered where she was. She could not remember anything. How had she come to be lying here? What was going on? She started to sit up, but pain seized her abdomen and she had to manage a few deep breaths before she could do so. Marcia fought back a moan of pain. What had happened? Before she could make sense of anything at all, she noticed Marcellus Pye gazing out of the window nearest to her bed. "Marcellus," Marcia began praying that she sounded coherent, "What in heaven's name are you doing _here?_" Marcia was suddenly shocked by the amount of effort it had taken to speak that one, small sentence but Marcellus was perhaps more shocked than she was. He jumped at the sound of her voice and then, unable to conceal his eagerness, he rushed toward the bed.

"Marcia!" He cried excitedly, "Oh Marcia, you're all right! I was so-I mean, we all were so worried. It was so hard to see you that…I mean…I was concerned. You slept almost sixteen hours just now. That can indicate that your health is worsening." Marcellus trailed off, not daring to believe that Marcia Overstrand had just succeeded in making him a stammering mess. Why had he been so unable to keep his control around her these last few weeks? What was the matter with him? At one point, he had been capable of carrying on an ordinary conversation with her, hadn't he? For some time, he had thought her quite a fool due to her mistrust of all things **darke**. Why did he not feel that way now? Why was he incapable of saying anything to her that made even a bit of sense?

Marcia, for her part, was suppressing a smile. She actually found it more than somewhat charming that the alchemist was developing an obvious affection for her, though she would rather die than admit that verbally. It amused her if nothing else and, after the horrific recent events, Marcia could do with a bit of amusement. She gazed up at Marcellus and was able to observe with no trouble at all his affection for. His eyes were telling her everything that his lips were not. Naturally, Marcia did not suspect that his feelings were romantic but it did feel nice to be appreciated in a way that she often wasn't. "Oh do be quiet, Marcellus. I'm quite all right. It is just a bit of pain really. You always concern yourself too much. I've told you to go home more than once now. Septimus can take care of me. I am going to heal, you know." Marcia stopped, as if noticing for the first time the terrible mark that was stretched across the lower part of her belly. As she glanced at the atrocious scar, she blushed, not only because she found it hideous but also because Marcellus had, no doubt, touched that part of her body countless times in order to heal her. Marcia was tempted to cover her face in shame. Marcellus had looked at her midriff and she had no doubt he had found it soft and disgusting. For some reason she couldn't explain, this horrified her. She had heard stories of Marcellus Pye's association with the witches and she knew that the young witches had a tendency to be quite thin and beautiful. Marcia was aware that she was neither of these. It wasn't that Marcia was heavy but she was undeniably curvy rather than thin in a way that the witches simply were not. Surely Marcellus favored those thin women with whom he passed so much time. They were, in fact-or so Marcia had heard- the only women that the alchemist would come near. Aside from that, the fact that Marcellus had seen her naked was one that offended her greatly in spite of her dire situation. It humiliated her to think that someone she did not trust completely had seen so much of her. She sighed heavily, wishing that Marcellus would leave her alone. She was on her way to being healthy again and she couldn't see what all of the fuss was about anymore. "I must see Jenna." Marcia said abruptly, taking Marcellus by surprise.

Marcellus gulped. "Marcia, if I may offer a bit of advice, I'm not certain that that is the best course of action at the moment." Marcellus did not want to reveal to Marcia that he had known of Jenna's plans prior to her action. It would only make her hate him and he would not, he knew, be able to bear it. However, he was going to do all in his power to prevent her from seeing Jenna alone. Not, at least, until Marcellus had seen her first. "I do think that you ought to do something about the person who harmed you, Marcia. Such people cannot be trusted in the Castle. We need to make the city as safe as possible, as I'm sure you agree."

Marcia shook her head vehemently. "I do not believe in death penalty, Marcellus, if that is what you mean. I would sooner have an enemy spend an eternity in prison than lower myself to his level by killing him. I do not take lives."

Marcellus sighed. He could not help but admire her ability to stand by what she believed was right, even if it was-in his opinion at least- a foolish idea. He decided to let the topic drop. He did not want to argue with Marcia and he knew she was too stubborn for him to convince her to consider changing her opinions. "Very well, Marcia." He said softly, "I'm just…I'm just so glad you are alive. Everyone was so concerned."

Marcia snorted. "I doubt that very much indeed, Marcellus. Everyone in the entire Castle has missed Alther since he died. I think they wish I would just disappear and leave them all alone sometimes. Marcellus, it is….difficult sometimes to know that they think that. I never cared if they liked me as long as they respected me and considered me competent…" Marcia trailed off, aware that she was rambling and saying far more than she should have. After all, she couldn't really expect Marcellus to understand, could she? His values were so different from her own. They had always loathed each other. With that said, however, it was abundantly clear that Marcellus no longer hated her now and perhaps that fact alone was causing her to feel more comfortable with him. If anything, Marcia was beginning to draw the amazingly queer conclusion that he _fancied _her, something she had never imagined would happen.

Marcellus had been holding his breath. Marcia had been about to confess her insecurities to him, her worries and fears. More than anything, he wanted to hear what she had to say but Marcia was silent. Marcellus observed her facial expression and noted that he had never before seen her looking so miserable. At once, he understood her dilemma. Marcia had spent her entire life attempting to achieve the position of ExtraOrdinary Wizard and yet, now that she had, no one seemed to have any regard for her at all. In fact, she was rather publically detested. Only the Wizards in the Tower remained loyal to her. Another pang shot through Marcellus's heart as he yet again considered that he had been in the number who had so disapproved of her until so recently. But had he ever really been in that number? Or had he merely told himself that he _should _be? Had he rejected Marcia out of obligation or out of true disdain for her? He was becoming certain that he knew the answer. "Marcia," he said, "I think you are perfectly competent. You are so passionate about your work. No one could be better, I assure you."

Marcia rolled her eyes. "You can save your flattery for your floozies, Marcellus. I haven't any patience for it. As it happens, I've said far too much. I should be resting, not answering pesky questions."

Marcellus blushed. "Very well, Marcia. You are quite right after all."

"Good. Now, if it isn't too much trouble, could you perhaps fetch me some water? I'm really quite thirsty."

"Of course. I'd be glad to." Marcellus replied and with that, walked down the hall and into the kitchen area. He carefully selected a glass from among the lot and the wonderful thought occurred to him that soon those adorable pink lips would be touching that glass. As this occurred to him, he began to become irrationally upset. He envied that glass-an inanimate object-the touch of Marcia Overstrand's lips. He sighed. The acknowledgment of such an absurd truth was enough to inform him that he was lost. Never before had he become so quickly and so passionately infatuated. It could not be more unhealthy and it was quite inconvenient. He shook his head in exasperation as he poured the water into the lucky glass and returned to Marcia's bedroom.

When he arrived, he was greeted by the sight of Marcia sitting upright in bed. In his opinion, she looked radiant. She was gazing out of the window and, when she heard Marcellus coming, she turned and, to his shock and amazement, graced him with a complete smile. Before that moment, Marcellus had not believed it was possible for one's insides to melt. It made no sense and it wasn't at all a logical idea. In spite of this belief, when Marcia Overstrand grinned at him, Marcellus felt as though his vital organs were all simultaneously turning to jelly inside of his body. He would surely die if she didn't stop smiling at him. "Oh Marcellus!" she said, "You've brought it so quickly."

Not trusting himself to speak, Marcellus placed the glass down on the table beside Marcia and sat in the chair nearest to her bed. As he watched her swallow nearly all of the water in a few gulps, he felt pity well up inside of him. This woman had survived an assassination attempt and yet she wasn't complaining. She was grateful to be alive and she wasn't even seeking Jenna's life as a form of revenge. Somehow, Marcia's inability to cause death and pain really appealed to him. Perhaps that was due to the fact that Marcellus had always known death and pain. His mother had taught him from a very young age that it was logical-nay necessary-to murder one's enemies if one was to survive. Marcellus had, to his shame, never questioned this. But now, watching Marcia, he knew that everything he had been taught had been incorrect and terrible. He didn't know if it was possible, really, after a lifetime of selfish behavior, but Marcellus wanted to strive to be more like Marcia. Surely he would become a better person if he did so.

Marcia startled him by breaking the silence. "Marcellus, I suppose I should thank you. I haven't yet."

Marcellus was perplexed. "Thank me for what?"

Marcia shook her head, as if Marcellus were being ridiculous. "In case it has slipped your mind, you saved my life."

"Not without help, Marcia. You give me entirely too much credit."

"I think not. I will never forget what you did for me. I only hope I can repay you someday." Marcia's eyes met Marcellus's and for a moment, they both remained inert, completely engulfed in one another's gaze. Without thinking, Marcellus began to smile at her and he allowed a potentially regrettable sentence to escape his lips. "It is a reward to spend time with you, Marcia."

Despite the fact that Marcia had begun to assume that Marcellus was forming some kind of affection for her, this sentence still caught her off guard. It was a true confirmation of what she had suspected. Marcia regarded Marcellus. His cheeks had acquired that same pink tint for the third time that night. "Marcellus…you don't mean…" Marcia trailed off. For once, she was at a loss for words.

So was Marcellus but fortunately, he did not have to respond to Marcia's question as the door burst open and Septimus emerged. "Its Rose!" He said breathlessly, "She's leaving the Castle. She's going with that twit Merrin back to the Port and she says she's going to stay there until she figures out a way to free Syrah and everyone else who has been involved in same sex relationships. She's gone mad. Stop her, Marcia." Septimus was begging now, begging like a child who had lost his way. "Please stop her, Marcia."

Marcia paused for a moment, taking in all that her apprentice had said. "Septimus, Rose is entitled to make her own decisions. I myself do not understand why Jenna is so intent on arresting anyone who engages in romantic relationships with others of the same sex. I am planning to speak to her about the matter very soon. If you ask me, it is entirely ridiculous. They shall all be free soon, I'll see to that. I happen to find Rose's goals very noble indeed and if she prefers Merrin then there is nothing else for it. Frankly, Septimus, Merrin seems to have changed a lot. I always told you that he would. You hardly helped your case by walking into Merrin's room and calling Rose that terrible name when you saw them together."

Septimus was incredulous. "But Marcia, they were about to kiss! What was I supposed to do? Pretend to be happy for them?"

Marcia was surprisingly unsympathetic. "There will be other girls, Septimus. You must allow Rose to be happy. That is all that you can do."

Septimus's expression of shock became one of intense anger. "Sometimes I don't think you care about me at all." He snapped and with that, he stormed out of the room.

"Septimus!" Marcia called out, "Septimus, where do you think you are going?"

Septimus didn't stop. "I am going to find that damn bastard and give him a piece of my mind."

xxx

Beetle had spent the entire night wandering through the Forest. Marissa had shown him everything. There was so much life in the Forest, life that Beetle had never expected had existed. There was a beauty unlike any he had ever known in those Forest glades and creeks. It was all breathtaking, nearly as breathtaking as the woman beside him. Beetle was too overwhelmed even to think of Jenna. Not once had he been unfaithful to her, however. He had held Marissa's hand and she had shown him the Forest, that was all. And yet, in the queerest way, it had been the most magical evening he had ever endured. Parts of it did not even seem real to him. It was like a mystical dream from which he couldn't awake. Marissa was a much more complex individual than he had ever fathomed. She possessed a strong and notable passion for those less fortunate than she and insisted that that was part of the reason she had been drawn to Beetle. He had been an unlikely Chief Hermetic Scribe and Marissa stated that, often, the most unlikely choice was the best. Before this night, Beetle would have said that that was witchy nonsense but now he believed Marissa wholeheartedly. She was strong, she was lovely, and she seemed to have an interest in him in a way that Jenna never had, even though she insisted that she loved him. With her persecution of homosexuals and encouragement of street riots, she hardly seemed to be Jenna at all anymore. Beetle still had every intention of marrying her but would a bit of dalliance with the most fascinating person he had ever known hurt? Especially if it didn't turn romantic. There was not harm in it, was there? Unfortunately, Beetle didn't recognize how trapped he was. By dawn, he was so enchanted that, had Marissa asked him to leap off a precipice to her death, he would not have questioned her. Therefore, he did not question the one request she made of him after she placed her head on his shoulder to watch the sun rise in the distance. "Beetle," she said softly, "there is a girl who will be Humiliated today. Come with me to free her." And although he knew he was defying his fiancee's wishes, Beetle complied.

xxx

Syrah was sitting in the Castle dungeons, doing her best to suppress her natural urge to vomit as the smell became more and more severe by the second. Her confusion regarding the whole episode had vanished as soon as the captain of the guards had shoved her against the wall and touched her the way that he had. His hands were filthy and bulky-disgusting really, and they were rendered even more so when they emerged covered in her juices. Syrah _was_ disgusting, she knew it. Not because she had cared for Hildegarde Pigeon but because she had allowed these men to subdue her, to make her weak and utterly defenseless. They had told her that it would make her want men, that she could be _normal _and acceptable after she had been "Humiliated" enough times. It was a training period. These men were training her to prefer men to women. They certainly had a curious way of going about that. Weren't they aware that forcing themselves upon her did not cause her to view them with more affection? In fact, if anything, it made her somewhat frightened of men in a way that she never had been before, the manner in which these men held and touched her was frantic and violent. There was nothing in their treatment of her that resembled the sweet kisses and caresses that she and Hildegarde had exchanged in her privacy of Syrah's room in the Ramblings. This was not making love and it seemed sinful to her that the men had the nerve to call it that. Every day, a new man came and each one seemed worse than the next. Or at least Syrah believed that it was every day. It could have been every hour or once a week. She had no idea how long she had been in the dungeons or how many others like her had been arrested and placed in similar situations. Time no longer mattered here. Survival mattered and that was all. Her ability to survive the rough, miserable pain and yes-the humiliation-was the topic on which she focused. She did, however, pray every so often that Hildegarde had not been captured. Syrah and Hildegarde had been somewhat secretive about their relationship and frankly, Syrah would not have worried for her lover at all had it not been for the fact that she had escorted her to the masquerade ball not so long ago.

Syrah didn't sleep anymore, not really. Instead, she would lie awake on the grotesque floor beneath her and stare into the blackness, instructing herself on how to breathe. She just knew that, if she could maintain a steady breath, she would be able to sleep. Unfortunately, she seldom managed that. Her heart was always pounding and bile was never far from rising up her throat. She was constantly afraid, always wondering what horrors would come with the return of her captors. As fear became a constant presence in her life so, simultaneously, did anger. Syrah's anger was unlike any she had ever imagined, let alone known. She began to resent everyone. If they cared, she thought, they would help her get out of there or at least make an effort to get in touch with her. That wouldn't be impossible would it? Perhaps they had decided that she wasn't worth the effort at all. But why? What had she done to offend them? It was precisely this question that had caused her anger to bloom and grown inside of her.

The answer was nothing. All of her life, Syrah had placed other people before herself. That wasn't to say that she was a saint, far from it as she and her closest peers could attest, but more often than not, Syrah had placed the wellbeing of others before her own wellbeing. She had always considered other people to be more important than she was. She had believed her dearest companions and of course, the lovers she had taken as well-both in her own Time and this new, less familiar one- to be good and just people. They had seemed loyal and trustworthy. But now, now that she was trapped, just as Simon Heap had been, not one of those people she had loved was making an effort on her behalf. It was, she presumed, too difficult, too risky for their own safety. Syrah tried to convince herself that they were right to place their own needs first. For how can one think of another's feelings and concerns when his own are more pressing, more immediate? Syrah initially respected that. She continued to respect that idea until she had been visited by the fourth guard. It was while his wandering hands were moving in and out of her in an unbelievably sharp, painful motion that she first felt the anger overtake her. She realized with a jolt that, had her companions been in her situation, she would have found a way to free them by now or she would have died trying. While she was pinned to the floor, she thought furiously, attempting to focus and ignore the pain in her loins that grew deeper with every thrust of the man's fingers. She would have been there for them if she had had to be. She wouldn't have thought of it at all. Instead, her closest companions had left her to this wretched place because it would endanger them to make an effort to free her. They were willing to leave her to face her final punishment alone because becoming too involved would complicate their own lives. For Simon Heap, there had been passionate riots but for her, there was nothing.

As the man's touch became more furious, Syrah closed her eyes and pictured a toy on which she had not played since she was a child. The toy was called a seesaw and children in her Time had used it to pass the hours by on the lazy afternoons by the river. On a seesaw, the heavier child would effectively lift the lighter child high into the air and support him or her and the lighter child would not have to do anything at all but relax and enjoy the great excitement of being so far from the ground. However, if the children were of similar weights, the pair would balance one another out and neither one of them would go springing into the air. They were equals that way. That was how Syrah had always believed her relationships with Hildegarde, Rose, and all of her other friends in the Tower to be. She had subconsciously visualized herself on an equal level with all of them, had foolishly believed that they would all support one another equally when times became difficult. Instead, she was the only one who was willing to lift them into the air. Rose she could understand. She had had more to lose. She was Septimus's girlfriend and, if the rioting was still occurring, no doubt Septimus had sided with the Wizard Tower rather than his sister. Queen Jenna would want Rose arrested and then she would lose Septimus and all that made her happy. But Hildegarde….had she lied about the fact that she and Syrah had loved one another in order to keep herself safe? As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, Syrah was starting to think that that was the case after all. She could not see the individuals in the neighboring dungeons and the voices were unfamiliar to her. None of the screams she heard every few hours belonged to her lover. Hildegarde had escaped persecution. On one hand, this provided Syrah with a sense of relief but she knew that Hildegarde had influence with Marcia Overstrand, at least to some extent. Marcia could have spared her by now. Why was no one doing anything? Syrah's mind drifted further and she realized that she had been subconsciously making excuses for all of them. They could have spared her by now if they had wanted to, but they hadn't. She understood in principal that they had to place their own needs first in a desperate time such as this one, but she knew instinctively that she wouldn't have done the same had she been in their situation and it caused resentment to grow and fester within her, like a weed. She was on her own.

But of course, she wasn't really on her own. She could hear the others screaming while she was trying to sleep at night. Every few hours, there were more screams, always unfamiliar and always frightening. She knew that the guards were attempting to prepare her for her ultimate humiliation though she had no idea what that might be. All that Syrah could do was to wait with dread in her heart. She did know that, as the guards only touched her with their fingers, the final humiliation probably included a deeper sort of touch than that and she shuddered at the thought. The thought of lying with a man was not comprehensible to Syrah but the thought of being entirely taken by force by a man was worse than death to her. Often, Syrah would visualize this as the final humiliation and would pray for death rather than to endure it. It was all too much. Already the manner in which the men touched her against her will filled her with an incomparable self loathing the likes of which she had never experienced before. Syrah Syara had never taken herself too seriously but she had never thought to hate herself before. Now, with the touch of these men, she could think of nothing but how disgusting she was. Her body was weak and unable to resist. She had always been weak. She had been weak in the way that she had always placed the feelings of others before her own and the manner in which she had shared her feelings with Hildegarde and, to some extent, Rose as well. She began to wonder what they had really thought of her anyway. Had they merely listened to her troubles out of pity? When she had told Hildegarde of the Syren while they had lain in bed together one night, had she really had as much sympathy as Syrah had believed she had? Had she really cared at all? She had probably wasted Hildegarde's time by informing her of such problems. After all, it was true that everyone in life had difficulties. Perhaps Hildegarde had found her burdensome. She did remember that there had been nights when Hildegarde had told her that she simply "couldn't handle discussing such things" and Syrah had always felt an intense sense of guilt. There was some piece of her that wanted to share all that she had endured with someone she trusted, perhaps so that she would no longer have to feel that she bearing the burden of being possessed in such a way entirely on her own, but she knew that Hildegarde and even Rose struggled to comprehend what she had endured, just as Syrah herself struggled somewhat to understand their challenges in life. During those long, dreary hours in the dungeon, Syrah often wondered if they had considered her more burden than friend and were secretly glad to be rid of her company. The thought initially filled her with grief. The idea that she would never again look into Hildegarde's lovely face or take Rose's hand in excitement was an unbearable one. She felt certain, however, that if they had left her here, they had done so with a decent reason. Or at least, she felt this way until the afternoon she felt the anger rise within her.

The anger took her by surprise while she felt one of the guards running his hands across her thighs as he would touch a prized pig. They had all abandoned her. Even that foolish Septimus who had once loved her so dearly was leaving her in prison, leaving her to die. Syrah knew perfectly well that the Wizards were capable of overwhelming the prison. They just didn't care. It was that simple. They had left her in this place, chained to a wall, at the mercy of all who visited. She pictured them now. Marcia with Milo Banda, without a care in the world, Septimus and Rose snuggling at the theater, completing engrossed in the plot, completely ignoring the fact that this was the one time that Syrah actually needed them, and Hildegarde, with her arms draped around a new woman. It was too difficult for them to make an effort to help her. Her situation provided a complication in their lives that they would rather not face. It was easier not to deal with her at all. At this realization, some emotion unlike any she had ever known welled up inside of Syrah and she cried out, just as her tormentor pushed further into her. A truly disturbing smile covered his face as he heard her cry out, believing, falsely of course, that he had caused her some kind of pleasure against her will. "At last," he murmured, "I knew it wouldn't be long. It never is." Syrah ignored him as best she could. She remained silent, stewing in her thought, this new and dangerous anger playing about with her soul until she no longer felt like Syrah at all. It was unfortunate that Syrah had no way of knowing that, while she languished in prison, her dearest friend Rose was trying desperately to devise a plan to free her before she was publically Humiliated.

By the time the guards came to escort Syrah into the outside world, she was in too dark a mood to care much what they intended to do with her. The best outcome, she was beginning to think, would be death. At least death would end all of the horrors that had come into her life the day that Queen Jenna had had her arrested. If she did survive the ordeal, she had only one goal. Queen Jenna would die at her hands.

The guards led Syrah out onto a long wooden platform and she noted with dismay that a crowd of other guards had already emerged to watch the event, as though it were a hanging rather an event in which one of these vile men would take advantage of her in the worst possible way to the delight of all of the others. When they began to remove her clothes, Syrah did her best to mentally remove herself from the situation. She focused on images of Jenna falling to her death. That was all she allowed herself to think.

Just as one of the guards began touching her though, he stiffened, as though he had been struck by some powerful force and he immediately crashed to the ground below. Gasps filled the assembled throng and a squeal of dismay escaped a woman that Syrah knew to be Queen Jenna. From the angle at which she had been tied, she could not see the Queen but she suddenly knew that she was there. Fury bubbled within her. She would escape. She would finish Jenna or die trying.

"Stop!" a clear, confident voice rang out, "If you harm this innocent girl, I shall do to all of you what I have done to the man who laid his hands on her. I am a **darke ** witch and, if I choose, I can melt all of your vital organs. _That_ is what I have done to your friend and I would have no qualms with doing it to each of you."

"Marissa Lane!" Jenna shrieked, "What is the meaning of this?" She snapped her fingers at the guards, "Arrest her this moment." However, the guards did not obey. Clearly, they had faith in Marissa's threat. "You heard me!" Jenna hissed, "Arrest her now."

"Jenna, this needs to stop now!" Jenna turned to see who had addressed her in such a casual way and saw, to her utter amazement, that Beetle had come to Marissa's side and had taken her hand in his. "Free Syrah now. Have you no pity?"

Jenna did not respond. The pain she felt at what she perceived as Beetle's betrayal of her hit her with the force of a bomb. She did not respond to her fiance's comments. Instead, she turned to the Captain of the Guard and said, "You will be honored beyond your wildest dreams if you kill both of those individuals right now." At last, the Palace guards gathered their strength and descended upon Marissa and Beetle.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: 41 REVIEWS?! God, you guys are the best! I think I must have the most wonderful readers on the site. Part of this chapter was inspired by another writer I admire very much so it is not 100 percent original but it is pretty close so I hope everyone forgives me for that. I am SO sorry it took me so long to update. I had a great week last week. I learned to dive (kind of...XD), met an awesome girl, took an amazing road trip, and got my adorable fat dog back. The only thing that would have made my week better would have been to get more brilliant reviews from you guys but I didn't because I was too lazy to write! Haha, I am trying to make up for it this week. I've started on number six and it will be out this week too, I think. Thanks for waiting and being so lovely. You are all amazing! Let me know what you like and don't like about this story. I'm open to anything. I want to apologize in advance for typos as I typed this very quickly and have to go now. I would have waited until I had proofread it to post it but I figured I had made you guys wait long enough and I didn't want to make you wait until tonight, which will be my next chance to look over it. I promise I will fix all of the glaring errors. I hope there aren't too many. :) Love you guys.

Chapter Five

Queen Jenna's attack on her unfortunate fiancé and his beautiful companion was remarkably short lived. Marissa had not lied about her ability to cause men's internal organs to melt into a disgusting pus within their bodies and, as the Palace guards advanced upon her, she began to do exactly that. Marissa said nothing at all but the screams that escaped the guards as they fell soon penetrated the entire area and Jenna was given no choice but to stop insisting that her guards seize Marissa and Beetle. She had been defeated by a mere girl and why? Because she had no **magykal **powers of her own, that was why. Jenna inwardly cursed her luck. If only she had been born with a talent for **magyk**. Had she been, no one in the Castle would have been able to resist her. As it stood, however, she was being thwarted by the simplest of Witches and it was utterly embarrassing. Jenna had watched, horrified, as the man who had been planning to violate Syrah Syara had crumbled to his knees and Syrah had escaped his grasp and run for safety. Every guard who had consequently pursued her had been struck down by Marissa, much to Jenna's complete dismay. Marissa and Jenna had been friends of a kind of a while. Why was she now fighting for the rights of individuals with desires for their own sex? It made no sense. Jenna was coming to the conclusion that, in order to keep the Castle the way she preferred it, she was going to have to get some **magykal **supporters-and quickly. For some time, she had been popular among the Wizards but after the night on which her guards had fought with the young Wizards in the streets of the Castle, she had lost much of the trust of the **magykal **community. The majority of the people in the Castle had no idea that, in addition to condemning Simon to death, Jenna had also attempted to assassinate Marcia Overstrand and, Jenna was now certain that, had they been aware of that fact, all of the Wizards would have turned against her without a second thought.

Against her will, Jenna was beginning to doubt Cerys's words, at least to some extent. Based on the wariness of the Wizarding community, she was no longer certain that the people of the Castle would merely accept the Queen's actions, no matter what they were. Clearly, the residents of the Castle were starting to view their young monarch with a bit of disdain and that was frightening. Jenna had always imagined herself as a despot the people would admire, envy, and enjoy, not someone they would fear and secretly come to loathe.

Jenna's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of one of her guards crying out, "My Lady, she is vanishing!" It was true. Marissa Lane was disappearing right before her eyes and there was nothing at all Jenna could do about it. Without the aid of Wizards, Jenna was helpless. Marissa had successfully **transported **herself to a new location and Jenna could do nothing to do stop her. The young Queen groaned in frustration. It was becoming all too apparent that she was losing what little grip she had left on her people and that petrified her. However, although she was more frightened and confused than ever before, she attempted to conceal her fear before her guards.

"You have all failed me!" She cried, "I want six of you to follow Syrah Syara and ten of your to pursue the Witch. And Beetle….Beetle can come with me." Jenna noticed with dismay that there was none of the excitement in Beetle's face that he had always seemed to possess anytime that Jenna so much as looked at him. She was losing his adoration as well. The thought made her feel irrationally angry and, as the guards began to obey her orders, Jenna walked down to take Beetle's hand. Beetle flinched.

"Beetle," Jenna began in a tone of false sweetness, "What is the matter? I'm not going to do anything to harm you. All I want to know is why you were with Marissa? I simply don't understand."

Beetle was not so easily won. "I was there with her because I think what you are doing is wrong, Jenna." In spite of herself, Jenna gasped. It was not often that people had the nerve to disagree publically with the Queen.

"What did you say?" she demanded, daring Beetle to repeat what he had just said.

"I said that I disagree with the fact that you are taking innocent people and punishing them for what they do in their private lives. It is inhumane and it isn't like you. Jenna, imagine if you were in their position, imagine if people attempted to punish the two of us for loving each other. Why are you doing this? You never seemed to have any issue with other people's lives at all prior to now. What is going on?"

Beetle's tone was practical, even soothing, and Jenna felt herself crumbling underneath it. "It..well….Beetle, it is my mother, Queen Cerys. She talks to me a lot now and she told me so many important things, things I never would have known or guessed had she not decided to become closer to me. Recently, she told me that, as a sixteen year old girl, another woman took advantage of her. She told me that so many people who prefer the same sex do things like that just because they can. I don't tolerate evil in this city, Beetle, and those people are more prone to be evil. Besides, it doesn't seem quite natural. They can't even produce children from their unions."

Beetle was aghast. "So you are suggesting that, because you don't understand their desires and because your mother had a bad experience with one woman that all people with same sex desires ought to be condemned? Jenna, I don't know what is getting into you but you no longer even seem like yourself. In fact-"

"Your Majesty." Jenna interrupted sharply, "You will call me Your Majesty until we are married."

Beetle stopped speaking. He knew that, if he said more, he would only say something he regretted. Jenna seemed to believe that his silence meant that he was finally agreeing with her and she smiled at the thought. "I shall see you later." She said brusquely, "You must come and visit me and put all of this nonsense out of your head. Everything I do is for the good of the Castle. Farewell." With that, Jenna turned on her heel and left Beetle in the middle of the square which was emptying fast. After a few moments of trying to clear his head, Beetle came to the conclusion that the best thing for him to do would be to pay a visit to Marcia and inform her of Jenna's actions. He knew that, during the past couple of weeks, Marcia had been far too weak physically to do anything about the situations arising in the Castle but, now that she was healing, Beetle thought she might like to know that the Castle's Queen was making some very unusual decisions indeed. With that thought in mind, Beetle left for the Wizard Tower.

xxx

Once inside the Palace, Jenna breathed a large sigh of relief. She could be alone now. Her humiliation had reached an all time high and she was relieved to escape it, if only for a few minutes. However, Jenna was, unfortunately, not as alone as she had believed herself to be.

"Your Majesty," a voice called, and Jenna jumped in fright.

"Who's there?" she asked, attempting to conceal the fact that her hands were shaking. The morning's events had really set her on edge and she had hardly expected a surprise visitor after a morning like the one she had just endured.

"Marcellus Pye," the voice responded and, as a figure stepped into the slight light of the shadowed hallway, Jenna saw that it was true. She had long ago realized that the Alchemist knew as much-or perhaps even more-about the Palace as she did. The bothered her more than she liked to admit but she could easily believe that Marcellus had made his way into the Palace without her permission. She recalled the way that Marcellus had dismissed the importance of assassinating Marcia and thought that perhaps he would be pleased that Marcia was still alive now. He might even suspect her. All of these thoughts inspired the young Queen to answer the alchemist in a rather cold manner, "What do you want?" she snapped.

Marcellus looked a bit shocked at Jenna's tone as she had only ever addressed him with the utmost respect prior to this point. "I must speak to you, Jenna." He said, using her name now in a way that irked her. He had begun by referring to her as "Your Majesty" and she couldn't understand why he had stopped using that respectful term in favor of using her true name. Was he simply trying to bother her? Jenna took a deep breath, essaying to mask her level of exasperation. "What do you need from me, Marcellus? As you might be hearing, this hasn't exactly been the most productive morning. I don't have time to waste."

"I won't be wasting your time. I simply came to talk to you about what you did to Madam Marcia two and a half weeks ago."

Jenna stopped dead. Marcellus _did _know then, she had been right after all. He knew that she had been the one who had made an attempt on the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's life. She gulped in spite of herself, waiting to hear what he might say. Jenna was aware that, due to the fact that she had been to visit Marcellus and had confessed her plan to him, he now possessed the ability to blackmail her if he desired. She was now certain that the people of the Castle would reject her if they knew that she had tried to murder Marcia and thus she had to be careful. It made her feel quite uneasy that Marcellus knew exactly what she had done. If only she hadn't been stupid enough to trust him….

Marcellus invaded the uncomfortable silence. "I have come to the conclusion that you are correct in your belief that the Wizards only contest the Queen's power. No one in this city will truly be able to respect our family if the Wizards are the ones who truly….pull the strings…as it were. I have been doing a lot of thinking on the matter."

"Thinking while you were nursing Marcia back to health?" Jenna demanded cynically and Marcellus blushed a bright crimson.

"That was my duty. I stand by my opinion that killing the Wizards in such a rash way is extreme. They are intelligent people and could be quite useful as long as they are willing to reform."

Jenna hesitated, now slightly interested in what Marcellus had to allow. "Go on. What do you mean when you say 'reform?'"

"I should have thought that was obvious. If they consent to cease their practice of **magyk **and swear loyalty to you, there will be no more power struggle in the Castle."

Jenna laughed. "That's impossible! Marcellus, are you mad? Not even my own family would abandon **magyk **in order to swear loyalty to me? As much as your idea appeals to me, it isn't realistic at all. They wouldn't do it."

A wry smile crossed Marcellus's pink lips. "Oh, I think they might if you destroyed the source of their power."

Jenna's eyes widened. "You don't mean?"

Marcellus smirked. "That is precisely what I mean. The most efficient weapon against **magyk **is and always has been fire. Not alchemical **fyre** but true fire, fire that burns through homes and ravages villages. If such a fire were to rage through the Wizard Tower, it would destroy very crucial sources for **magyk ** and even the greatest Wizards would find that their power would much less present there. This would force them to abandon their home and to surrender to you."

Jenna paused, permitting the idea to sink into her head. "And you have a way of doing that so that no one would suspect either of us?"

Marcellus nodded. "That is simple, Jenna. I believe that my apprentice, your brother, would do nicely. **Magyk** is what he truly loves and it seems feasible that he would be willing to go to great lengths to punish Marcia Overstrand for banning him from the Tower. You wanted Simon arrested anyway. Here is your chance."

Jenna was more perplexed than before. Why was Marcellus simply allowing her to take Simon from him? Wouldn't that compromise him at work? What was going on? She felt instinctively that it would be wrong to trust this alchemist entirely. He might be willing to help her due to the fact that they were of the same blood and neither of them really approved of the **magykal** influence in the Castle but she still felt that there was something he wasn't telling her. And there was.

Marcellus Pye had, that very morning, confessed to Marcia Overstrand that he had developed powerful feelings for her and that he would very much enjoy being her lover if she would have him. In response, Marcia had not only rejected him but rejected him coldly, informing him that his request of her was rude indeed. She did not need to inform him of why it was rude. The entire Castle was aware of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard's relationship with Milo Banda. Marcellus had merely convinced himself that Marcia was only interested in Milo because she believed she could attain no one better. That morning, he had seen for himself that he was incorrect in that assumption. Marcellus couldn't understand it. He was attractive, incredibly intelligent, and alluring. Anyone in his own time would have given their lives for one night with him. Julius Pike had, in fact, given his life for a night with Marcellus Pye, a little known fact in the Castle's history. Why then was Marcia refusing him? Marcia wasn't even traditionally beautiful! Of course, she was quite attractive in her way or Marcellus would never have noticed her but she was nothing compared to him. How then could she have refused him? Between Simon Heap and Marcia, Marcellus has suffered more rejection recently than he had ever suffered in his five hundred years of existence and he intended to make them pay for it.

The inner points of Marcellus's jealousy passed Jenna by. "You mean to burn the Wizard Tower entirely? Marcellus…" Jenna hesitated. She seemed to be struggling with some deep rooted issues within herself. "Innocent people will die." The words shocked her as much as Marcellus. Why had she said them? When in the past had she cared if one or two Castle residents were sacrificed in favor of the greater good? She shook herself.

Marcellus laughed aloud. "That has never stopped you before, Your Majesty." I doubt many of them will die in any case. The majority will lose most of-if not all-of their **magykal** capabilities and will choose to serve you after that. In a week, you shall truly be the Queen of the Castle." The alchemist took his niece's hand and kissed it. "Goodnight" he said respectfully, and then he went out, leaving Jenna with much to consider.

xxx

Nicko Heap was healing in the care of Rose. Marcia had finally healed enough to resume her duties as ExtraOrdinary Wizard and, as Rose had gone to stay with Merrin for a few weeks to help him tidy up the Doll House, Nicko was sent to the Port for a bit. Dandra Draa had done all that she could for him and he was now in need of some individual care. He needed someone sweet and patient to nurse him back to health. Marcia had encouraged Rose to remain in the Port for a bit longer in order to allow Septimus to get over his distress at her developing feelings for Merrin Meredith. "Septimus needs to focus on his work." Marcia had said, "How can he do that when he is utterly fixated on you?" Rose was enjoying her time with Merrin. He had shown her the Port and a deep sense of pity had welled within her when she had observed the way that people live there. She had believed that there was poverty in the Castle but it was nothing compared with that which she was seeing in the Port now. Rose simply wished that there was more she could do to assist the people in need. She felt so helpless. She enjoyed helping Merrin and his mother because it brightened their days and made them happy. She would stay with Merrin at night until he fell into a deep sleep before she retreated to her own bedroom down the hall. Rose made an effort to seem as peaceful and happy as possible for Merrin's sake but with Syrah and so many others she cared for in danger, that was becoming increasingly harder. So when Marcia insisted that she take Nicko under her wing as well, Rose was delighted. The more tasks in her life to distract her, the less likely she was to think of matters that troubled her immensely.

Unfortunately, Nicko himself was a troubling matter. The young man did not even speak when he arrived at the Doll House and he refused to eat anything that was offered to him. Frankly, Rose was surprised that Dandra had released him at all. Dandra seemed to have some belief that Rose's warm heart could heal anyone but Rose herself wasn't so certain. Nicko's emotional state was dire. Leaning that he was impotent had crushed his spirits in a way that even the prospect of death could not. He opened his mouth only to say, "I am no longer a man" once but he refused to speak afterward. When Merrin entered his room at one point, Nicko had attempted to rise from the bed and attack him before Rose had succeeded in holding him at bay. Nicko Heap sometimes spoke in his sleep while Rose watched him. He would mutter "Snorri.." which was a name Rose knew nothing of and it concerned her a bit. When she asked Merrin who Snorri was the following day, he had to confess that he didn't know. Nicko's presence in the Doll House annoyed Merrin. Nicko was taking Rose's attention and devotion which should have, he felt, been his. Tension began to build between the two of them and, for the first time, Rose wondered if temporarily leaving Septimus and the Wizard Tower behind her had been the best decision after all.

One evening, long after everyone in the house but Rose had gone to sleep, there was a knock at the door. The sound startled Rose out of her reverie. She had been thinking of Syrah and Septimus, wondering if she would ever see them again, when someone arrived at the Doll House. Cautiously, Rose walked down the corridor and cracked open the door to see who was there. A potential guest perhaps? To her surprise, she was greeted by the sight of a young Wizard apprentice. A look of complete horror covered his features and he was shaking.

"Come in, come in," Rose insisted, "What is the matter? Have you come with a message?"

The boy looked as though he might burst into tears if he attempted to speak. Rose led him into the sitting room and spoke soothingly to her, making an effort to relax him. After a moment, he managed, "The Wizard Tower….someone said you were here….Miss Rose….Miss Rose, its on fire!"

Rose gasped in horror. She knew very well the damage a powerful fire could do to a **magykal** space like the Wizard Tower. "Why…who…how did this happen? What can I do?" Rose got to her feet, ready to go. The boy shook his head.

"There is nothing we can do. If we go back, he'll kill us too." At this, the boy did burst into tears and Rose brought him into her arms to comfort him.

"Who?" she said softly, "Who has harmed the Wizards?"

"The Castle Alchemist." The boy choked out, "The Queen knew it was him. She seemed really upset."

Rose nodded. "I understand that. The Heaps are her family and they are Wizards. The Queen has certainly made some decisions with which I do not agree slightly but she would not lie about this, I don't think. Whatever inspired him to do this?" Rose couldn't help but think how stupid Marcia had been to trust Marcellus so implicitly. There would be no Wizard Tower now because of her. "And Madam Marcia?" she asked warily.

"Dead, I think." The boy replied grimly, "They're all dead. My mum, my dad, my little sis…" he erupted into a fresh set of sobs that melted Rose's heart to hear them. As she listened to the boy's grief, she began to doubt her own words. As an educated young woman, Rose was aware that the Royal family and the Wizards had never gotten along and Marcellus Pye was nothing if not a member of the royal family. Considering Jenna's erratic behavior of late, it wouldn't surprise Rose if the Queen _had _been involved in the recent plans in some way or another. She shivered. What was the Castle coming to? She hugged the boy to her chest as a wave of nausea nearly overcame her. "Septimus," she murmured, "I'm so sorry." She then succumbed to grief, suddenly certain that her first love was gone forever.

xxx

Visiting the site so soon was a bad idea, Marcellus realized. It was a crime scene, and a crime he was suspected of at that. Jenna had blamed Simon as she had promised but people had begun associating Marcellus with Simon and Marcellus too had had no choice but to go into hiding after Simon was arrested for a second time. A mere eight days had passed since the Wizard Tower had been reduced to ash and rubble and Marcellus knew ought to have been in hiding, hiding from the entire Castle. Citizens had already scoured this place for clues and stolen its secrets. There was most likely nothing left for him to find.

In some part of him the question arose, _what am I even _looking_ for?_

Marcellus pushed through charred wreckage that less than two weeks previously had been Septimus and Marcia's beloved home. Marcellus pushed aside fallen beams with a strength he hadn't known he'd had to find only more destruction on the other side. The Tower, once such a proud, elegant structure, was now little more than tall bits of rubble. No one had been able to put out the fire his drummins had begun in time. No amount of water had soothed the flames.

Marcellus's hands when he finally noted them, were scraped and covered in blood. For once, however, he didn't care. There was ash all over him, in his hair, his eyes, in the back of his throat, which caused him to cough and gasp for air much in the same way that he had the day he, Septimus, and Marcia had descended into the Chamber of **Fyre** not long ago. This wasn't important at all. He had to keep searching.

Once there had been a wonderful woman in the world, charming and intelligent, witty and beautiful, and now there was only a destroyed ruin. There too had been a young prodigy whom Marcellus had regarded as son, swallowed up by the flames. For such a cataclysm there had to be a reason, an explanation.

Eight days. _I'm sorry, Marcia; I couldn't get here any sooner. I was so foolish, so jealous. I never meant for this to go this far. I told the drummins to stop, I don't know why they didn't. I was too late, I'm always too late. _

Where he was now, this could have been her study, he thought. He could tell by the pile of rubble that had been-nine days ago- a desk, the distorted picture frame that could have once held the face of someone she loved- Septimus perhaps?- and a twisted mass of metal in the center of it all, just recognizable as a rather expensive lamp. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. How intense the flames must have been, to do something like this.

And what they would have done to _her_… to her dainty hands, her sweet lips, her soft, precious cheeks…..

He suddenly moaned in horror, dropping the lamp and bringing his hands up to his face to stop the sight of her burning, block the sound of her screams. As if that could help him. Help _her_, more to the point. So futile, all this struggle for rationality. She was gone, destroyed, and even if understanding were possible it couldn't bring her back. His whole body trembled in anguish. _Fire is an irreversible action. Death is an irreversible reaction. It can't be, but it is._

Visiting this site was a bad idea.

But there were no good ideas, not any more.

_I should just…_

There was an almost imperceptible sound, ac crunching of glass perhaps.

There was someone else there.

Marcellus looked up and was greeted by the sight of Queen Jenna standing over him, watching him like a hawk. He cringed slightly. How had the fire gotten out of control? How had their plan gone so terribly wrong? Marcellus had only ever meant to teach Marcia a lesson. He had never wanted her _dead_. He couldn't even imagine a version of the Castle in which she was. It was unreal. Everything felt unreal. "Jenna…how…why?" Marcellus stopped, aware that he sounded like a stuttering child. "What about Septimus?' he finally managed.

"What about Septimus?" she asked, rather nonchalantly Marcellus felt. Marcellus, the Wizards were a threat to our family, as I thought you were aware. Your drummins did indeed stop setting fire to the Tower when you bid them to do so but you have forgotten that I am a **Darke **Witch. That atrocious Marissa made me one last year. Even novice witches have the ability to make a fire **darke** and that is precisely what I did. A **darke **fire will continue until the entire building is consumed in flames and that is why-"

"Stop!" Marcellus cried, "Do you think I'm daft, Jenna? I know exactly how a **Darke ** fire works. I know _too _much about it! All I wanted was to destroy the Wizards main power source so that they would be loyal to you but that wasn't good enough for you, you had to destroy the Wizards as well." Marcellus cleared his throat, fighting to keep tears from rising in his throat. "What are you doing here now? Why have you come here?"

Jenna rolled her eyes, "Isn't it obvious, Marcellus? It is the middle of the night, I've come for the amulet. If there is any chance it is still here, I have to prevent other people from getting their hands on it, lest we have another legion of Wizards against us again. Will you keep it safe for me once I find it? I know you have many secure chambers in the Great Chamber of Alchemie."

Marcellus's brown eyes widened in shock and horror. "Jenna, are you mad? The amulet _burned_. Everything here burned. It is all gone."

Jenna, oblivious to Marcellus's distress, seemed relieved. For a moment, she almost sounded like the girl of fifteen years she truly was. "Do you really think so?"

Marcellus shook his head. "I'm sure of it" and so dismal was his tone of voice that Jenna eyed him suspiciously.

"Why is it that you didn't want them dead?"

"Jenna, I told you before. They could have been useful. You, with your little **darke **trick, have wasted valuable lives. Lives of individuals who might have followed you if only you had been wiser about your decisions."

Jenna's visage was now crimson and her expression was truly horrid. "Are you suggesting that my decisions were not good enough? How dare you call me by my name! I am your Queen and you will address me as such. I'll have you taken away right now-"

"For what?" Marcellus hissed in exasperation. "Will you accuse me of now? Will you tell them that I was in league with Simon? They already believe that. But do you know what else they believe? They believe you are mad. With the way that you have been arresting innocent people just because they fancy members of the same sex and now the entire Wizard Tower has burned, they're really beginning to wonder. How many of the Castle residents do you believe really think that Simon was behind this? Wouldn't their rash, impulsive Queen who has anyone who disagrees with her put to death be a more realistic option?"

Jenna was on the verge of going into a rage now. "You'll pay for this, Marcellus Pye! I'll have my guards arrest you on the morrow. You'll see. You'll die for this!" Jenna turned on her heel and fled the wreckage like a child. For all her talk, she was helpless now without her guards to support her. Marcellus would be able to return to hiding and ignore her empty threats. It wouldn't, he realized, matter if she did take his life after all. His life had already been taken as far as he was concerned. His selfish, evil impulse had killed him as easily as it had killed his apprentice and the woman he had come to adore. It was over for him.

xxx

Milo Banda was caught between a rock and a hard place. He had spent the first four days following the fire in the Wizard Tower in his bed, unable to move. Every day he would tell himself that he would get up, he would kill that Marcellus Pye and avenge the death of his sweetheart, but he never succeeded. Everyday, he would lie in bed, weeping where he knew that no one could hear him and imagining that Marcia lay in his arms. Such thoughts would induce vivid dreams in which in turn led Milo to believe, if only for fleeting seconds, that Marcia _was_ sleeping beside him and that she was happy and healthy. Like Marcellus, he constantly fought off images of her burning. She was too beautiful to burn, to charming to die. After four days of lying in his bed, he came to the conclusion that Marcellus had killed Marcia not only because he hated Wizards but also because Marcia had been a prize to him. He had wanted her too and when she had refused him, he had killed her. It all made sense to Milo. He had often told Marcia that she was incredibly desirable and lovable and yet she had never believed him. She had always verbally shrugged off his words though her delighted blush consistently revealed her true feelings regarding Milo's frequent compliments. It all made Milo a bit sick. Marcia had given her life to be faithful to him, in a sense. She had refused to bed Marcellus and the consequences had been dire for her, or so he had believed at the time. Milo thought of the way that he had put Marcia on a pedestal but had continued to lay with "lesser" women because they were "a bit of fun on the side." His shame had never been greater. He deserved to lose Marcia, he had thought, it was only right given him behavior.

But Milo was a lucky man. He had not, in fact, lost Marcia at all. On the evening of the fourth evening after the Wizard Tower burned, he was awakened by the sensation of someone pushing him sharply. He jerked himself awake, half expecting to see Marcellus Pye standing there, ready to kill him. He wouldn't have much cared if he had been standing there. Milo's only reason for going on was Jenna and he had not had a real conversation with his daughter in weeks now. She had changed so rapidly that he sometimes felt as though he hardly knew her at all. He missed the long chats they had once had in the evening when she had first become Queen. Milo more than once had tried to talk to her about her mother, Queen Cerys, and why Cerys had wanted her to make an attempt on Marcia's life but Jenna had always accused him of interfering when he questioned her and he had succeeded in obtaining no information from her. Marcia had said that Cerys worked through Jenna and he was starting to wonder if she was correct. Jenna, his angelic daughter, did not seem capable of some of the things she had done in the last few months. Milo recalled Cerys's fixation on other women and how she had fallen for one woman who had hurt her immensely. Milo had always been thankful for that woman's fidelity as it had allowed him to approach the Queen himself but he knew that, from that point on, Cerys had disliked people who fancied the same sex, disregarding the fact that she was truly one of them. It seemed only natural that Jenna was acting on her mother's impulses. But why was Cerys trying to cause problems now? She had been a relatively peaceful monarch. For the first time, Milo found himself relieved that Cerys's reign had been short. He was starting to think that chaos would have ensued had it lasted any longer.

But when Milo looked into the eyes of the individual he expected to be Marcellus, he found himself utterly shocked. "M…Marcia!" he stammered, "How on earth-"

"Shh.." Marcia said softly, "Milo, be quiet, will you? I've come to take you from here. It isn't safe here anymore."

Milo was still too shocked to comprehend much of what Marcia was saying. He was watching her rather than listening. He had never in his life imagined a more intense relief or joy than what he was now experiencing. Without thinking, he reached up to touch her face, as if to be certain she was real. "Milo, are you even listening to me?" Marcia demanded and her familiar look of annoyance was so charming to him that he couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He half expected her to resist at first but, to his surprise, she didn't. She was as relieved to see him as he was to see her. He pulled her closer to him and, against his better judgment, began to run his hands from the tops of her shoulders down to her chest. When he reached this area, however, he stopped. In the relative darkness of the room, he found that his hands were touching what could only be the Akhu Amulet. Marcia was still ExtraOrdinary Wizard and she had escaped the Tower unharmed. His curiosity momentarily got the better of his passion and he asked, "What happened?"

"Your daughter happened." Marcia replied crisply, "Marcellus Pye may indeed have been involved in this but he is not capable of creating a **darke ** fire. That is a Witch trick but it isn't one that is commonly used to destroy other **magykal ** people. A Witch who had passed the novice stage would be aware of that fact. Jenna, however, has not. A **darke **fire will indeed burn until the building is utterly gone but that does not permit the residents of said building from **transporting **themselves to other locations if they have the ability to do so. I gathered all of the Wizards into the Hall of the Tower and we all did just that together. Not a soul died in the Wizard Tower four nights ago, Milo, I saw to that. Obviously, the Castle is no longer a safe place for us at the moment as Jenna, or rather Cerys, I think, is determined to rid the Castle of anything that she perceives as competition. I am gathering the Wizards together and we are creating a plan to take back the Castle. If Jenna wants me to play her game, then I shall play it and win. We shall rebuild the Wizard Tower if it takes half a century." Marcia's tone was confident but her green eyes glistened in the darkness and Milo felt deep sympathy for her. There was nothing Marcia had loved more than the Wizard Tower. It was not only a source for the bulk of the Wizards' power, it had also been her home, the place in which she could lose herself in **magyk. ** She, no doubt, felt that it was all her fault due to the fact that, after centuries of existing, the Tower had fallen under Marcia's watch.

Although Milo's sympathy for Marcia grew by the second, he found that his relief and joy at seeing her was beginning to be replaced by anger. How dare she accuse Jenna of doing something so terrible without proof? Marcia didn't know Jenna like he did and she certainly hadn't known Cerys to that degree. How dare she make assumptions about them both?

"Milo," Marcia muttered and she grasped his hand suddenly. Her hands were so soft and, for a moment, all he could think was how grateful he was that those hands had not been burned to ash, "I've come here to ask you to come with me. I want you with the Wizards. What do you say?

"Marcia, that is like asking me to pick between you and my child. I can't do that. You don't know for sure that Jenna did any of this. If you just spoke to her-"

"Milo, I've told you before, Jenna is not herself right now. The night I tried to speak to her, she stabbed me. Surely you haven't forgotten."

Milo hadn't. "She wouldn't have burned the Tower, Marcia. For the sake of Septimus if not for yours."

Marcia shook her head. "So your answer is no, I take it?"

"What else could it be, Marcia? I need more proof before I start running around accusing my daughter of heinous crimes. She feels as though she has no support from anyone. If I leave her, what will she do?"

"You're a fool." Marcia said coldly. "You refuse to see the truth when it is right in front of you."

Milo did not take lightly to being called a fool. "You're one to call me a fool, Marcia."

Marcia paused. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you really think you were the only woman I was seeing these past few months? Being oblivious to the presence of other women in my life seems a lot more "foolish" to me than refusing to believe that your daughter would attempt to murder hundreds of innocent people."

A look of deep pain covered Marcia's face and for a moment, she had to look down. "You aren't serious, are you?"

Milo forced a smile. "I am absolutely serious."

Marcia swallowed and bit her lip but her tone was strong. "Well, I suppose that's it then. Don't expect me to grant you mercy when I return." With that, she began to vanish before his eyes and Milo felt more alone than he ever had in his life.

xxx

Syrah Syara had made it to the Port at last. Rose had been unspeakably happy to see her friend and had permitted her to sleep for nearly an entire day in one of the guest rooms before she finally began questioning her about all that had happened in the Castle. Syrah gave her bits and pieces of the whole story but she couldn't bring herself to tell Rose about all of it, not yet at least. She now attached such shame to her experience that she was no longer sure that she would be able to return to the Castle any time soon, what with all she had endured. She did believe that all of the Wizards, even the Queen's own family, had been killed and that did not bear thinking about. Rose was, Syrah could tell, struggling to take her mind off of Septimus. She had clearly developed feelings of a kind for this Merrin Meredith boy but that had not rid her of all affections and now, the thought of his death caused all of her feelings for him to rise in her mind once more. There was, Syrah felt certain, a sense of guilt that was plaguing Rose, the same sense that she herself was experiencing. Their place was in the Wizard Tower. They should have been there when it burned, they should have died as well.

A few nights after Syrah had arrived at the Doll House, she received an unexpected night visitor. In the darkness, she could make all the figure of a man, "Merrin?" she asked blearily, "Come in, what is it?"

Merrin sat down on the edge of Syrah's bed. "Its Rose." He said softly, "I don't think I've made her happy here. I took her here, hoping she'd be happy. That was all I ever wanted and I've only managed to make her more miserable than she already was. I care so much for her. Her happiness is…" he blushed.. "Well, I guess her happiness is my happiness, you know? I could scarcely believe it when she actually wanted to come to the Port with me and now I've just messed up everything." Merrin seemed truly distraught and Syrah briefly found it odd that this boy she barely knew would speak to her about his concerns in this way.

"Why have you come to me?" she asked, "You know Rose as well as I do now."

Merrin shook his head. "I think you know her the best. You've been friends for a whole now. How did you make Rose happy?"

Syrah offered Merrin a wry smile and he seemed to relax. "I never made Rose happy." She said thoughtfully, as much to herself as to Merrin, "Rose makes herself happy and her friends merely add to that happiness. She is just like anyone else, though, Merrin. She isn't always happy. You can't expect her to be. Right now, it is truly difficult for any Wizard to be happy."

Merrin nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry." He said awkwardly, knowing that Syrah probably wouldn't take his apology very seriously given all that he had done in the past few years.

"Thank you." Syrah said, "It hasn't really hit me yet, that they're all gone, I mean. Madam Marcia was one of those people I thought would live forever. She had such a zest for life, such an energy that others lack. She is **magyk. ** Or was. Then there is my Hildegarde. I'll never see her again. I won't even know what happened to her. You know, they might have gotten her like they got me. For 'kissing girls'." So cynical was Syrah's tone that Merrin shuddered uncomfortably. Syrah's time as a prisoner had left her bitter, perhaps even dangerous. If Syrah was bothered by Merrin's disturbed expression, she didn't let on. "The Queen needs to die, you see. That's the only way we end the monarchy. If she has a right to exterminate the Wizards, we too reserve the right to end the monarchy. If she dies without an heir, the Castle will have no choice but to begin anew. Wizards can return and we can begin to rebuild our home in honor of those that we lost. Marcia Overstrand would want us to keep fighting."

Merrin was surprised. "Are you implying that the Queen was behind the fire in the Wizard Tower too? In addition to imprisoning homosexual people?"

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life." Syrah said, a tone so placid that Merrin felt still more uneasy than he had before. How could she be so calm? How did she know these things?

Syrah went on, "I'm going to kill her myself, you'll see. I'll have it no other way. I'll wait here, regain my strength, and go after her. I'll go after her for what she did to me and to my people. Poor Hildegarde…." Her voice trailed off and her expression resembled that of a lost child. Merrin found himself wishing he could comfort her. Somewhat awkwardly, the young man reached out to put his arm around her but Syrah pulled away. "There is no need for that, Merrin. You came to ask about Rose. My answer is to be patient with her. I've never seen her take to anyone the way she has taken to you."

Merrin had a feeling that Syrah wasn't lying, that she couldn't be, and he beamed in spite of himself. "I will do that. I worried about her too, you know. That was part of the reason I told her we ought to leave the Castle. She's like you. Rose likes men and women."

Syrah smiled. "I know. So many people did before Queen Jenna set out to kill them all. That is how Rose and I became close, actually. She made me feel less alone sometimes." Syrah stopped, realizing that she had said more than she had intended. Merrin looked a bit disappointed that she did not continue. He had been curious, she realized, and she found herself liking Merrin more and more by the second.

"And you?" Merrin asked, "Did you…did you love Rose? Did you ever?"

"As my sister, yes. I will love her forever as my sister. I dislike your assumption that because I prefer women, I will fancy any woman who also enjoys the company of other women. Rose is one of the most important people in my life. That is what matters to me."

Merrin shook his head to indicate that he understood. "I didn't mean it that way, Syrah. I'm sorry. I'm glad that the two of you have each other." He did not go on. Syrah seemed a bit wary now and he had no desire to bother her. He had a bit of news for her. This was the second reason he had come to her rooms. The first had been to inquire about Rose and the second had been to inform her of something that had the potential to make her happy but probably wouldn't. It was something that Rose had forbidden him to say to her but he knew that, were he in her shoes, he would want to know about it. "Hildegarde isn't dead." He said, in a voice as gentle as he could manage. "She has decided to follow the Queen and is to marry the Queen's father, Milo Banda very soon. It was apparently announced yesterday. Rose didn't want you to know but I think you deserve to."

Syrah's face turned ashen. "Then she will die as well." she hissed before bursting into a hysterical fit of tears.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Hi guys! Thank you so much for leaving me such thoughtful and wonderful reviews. I'm so happy that you have taken the time to read this. I've just arrived back home and now updates will proceed as before. I will be updating about once a week again. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed the old fics that I reposted. Or at least kind of enjoyed them. Haha! I am understanding that some of you really like this fic and some of you really don't. It seems to be an "all or none" project. I just want you to know that not all of my stories are incredibly dark and that I will write happier ones in the future. It just means a lot that you tried this one at all. We are almost to the halfway mark in this story. (it will have 14 chapters) so Merrin's part is about to become enormous. He is very important in the second half of the story. I know I have a few great Merrin fans so I hope that you will all enjoy that. This is way too long. XD Thank you, guys. You are the best!

Chapter Six

Syrah did not sleep that evening. She hadn't really expected to after what Merrin had told her. Hildegarde was alive! She was well and she was marrying Milo Banda. Thoughts of the handsome rogue touching Hildegarde's body were running rampant in the unfortunate young woman's mind. Syrah tossed and turned violently, praying passionately for the images to leave her mind but they refused. She groaned and sighed. Everyone and everything she had loved had been lost in the blink of an eye. It was enough to make her question the point of her existence. She was alone except for Rose. Something that felt suspiciously like self pity rose in her breast and she didn't bother to suppress it, not this night. However, she did not have long to ponder it because her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of light footsteps in her room. Syrah jumped. Both Merrin and Rose had gone to bed hours ago and the young man, Nicko, had not risen from his bed in days so it would hardly be him. The steps were light, a woman in heels. Tip-tap, tip-tap. Syrah caught her breath. It couldn't be.

But it was. **Appearing ** on the edge of Syrah's bed was Marcia Overstrand, still clothed in the deep purple robes of an ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Around her neck she wore the Akhu Amulet. Syrah realized for the first time that she had been near tears. "M..Madam Marcia!" she gasped, "You're not…they said….Oh my"

Marcia was, for once, comforting. "Syrah," she started softly, extending one of her hands to reach the younger Wizard's. "Yes, yes, I'm here. I'm alive."

Syrah's eyes filled with tears as she reached forward to clasp Marcia's hand in her own-the boldest move she had ever made as far as Marcia was concerned. "I'm so sorry I didn't get to the Tower in time. I should have been there. I could have helped you."

Marcia shook her head definitely. "No, Syrah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I did not free you and others like you more quickly. I was injured but I had heard vague stories of what Jenna was doing to homosexuals and yet I did nothing. I should have believed the rumors. After all, it was Jenna who stabbed me that night. I knew perfectly well what she was capable of." A few months prior, this information would have caused Syrah to gasp. On this night, however, it had no such effect. After what she had endured, Syrah was beginning to believe that the Castle's Queen would stop at nothing to achieve her own ends. "I should have done more." Syrah could easily observe the remorse in Marcia's eyes and she immediately felt the urge to comfort her but found that she lacked the energy to do so. It occurred to her that the reason for this may have been that she found truth in Marcia's words. Marcia could have-and should have-done more for homosexual people. She managed to give Marcia's hand a slight squeeze and that simple motion succeeded in granting Marcia some sense of peace. At least her guilt was palpable. Syrah began to warm up to her. No doubt she felt betrayed by the relationship between Milo and Hildegarde as well. But none of that mattered suddenly! Marcia was alive!

"What happened?" Syrah asked quietly. "How is it that you are here?"

Marcia then proceeded to tell Syrah all that had occurred since the burning of the Wizard Tower-how the Wizards had survived and that they had succeeded in saving much of the information in the Pyramid Library by holding bits in their hands as they **transported ** out of the Tower and how they were now hiding just outside the Port, planning to retake the Castle.

Syrah was impressed but perplexed. "How do you propose to do that? The main source of our power was the Tower and its gone now. How could we go forward?"

A hint of a smile curved at Marcia's lips, "I shall be making a trip to the House of Foryx with Septimus and we shall bring back Hotep-Ra. I do not care if it takes five years or more-we will rebuild the Tower just as he built it-with his help. We have saved much of the information that was within our home and we shall rebuild it and make it better than ever. We shall not allow Jenna to ruin our lives, I'll see to that."

Not for the last time, Syrah felt herself stirred by Marcia's determination and ambition. She felt compelled to believe that Marcia would be successful and that she should follow her. She had a duty to her people after all. She could return to the Castle with the Wizards and not only put right the wrongs that the Queen had done them but also free others who fancied members of the same sex. In spite of her grim situation, she found that she too was suddenly tempted to smile. "We must tell Rose of this at once." Syrah said, "Oh Madam Marcia, she'll be so happy."

"Indeed, we must tell Rose. And Nicko too, as I understand that he is here. I would, naturally, believe that telling Merrin Meredith of our plans would be an extremely foolish decision but his behavior as of late and the fact that Rose seems to trust him completely lead me to think that perhaps he can be trusted after all. Do you place trust in him, Syrah?"

Syrah was a bit surprised that Marcia was asking her but she nodded. "I think that I do. As Rose says, he needed love. Now that he has received it, he has begun to love others. He's just a bit awkward about it."

Marcia's half smile developed into a full one that Syrah found somewhat dazzling. This-she realized suddenly-was what had drawn her to Marcia initially. She didn't always or often smile but when she did, Syrah felt that her smile was blinding and that it wiped away all tendrils of despair in anyone nearby. Marcia was radiant and Syrah felt blinded and a bit overcome in her presence. She loved the sensation in one way and loathed it in another. Somehow, all of it just made her miss Hildegarde more. Marcia was too much for her. Hildegarde was everything she ever could have wanted and yet now, she was losing her. They would be on opposite sides of a great conflict and if one lived, it was likely that the other would not. Syrah sighed heavily and turned away, trying to think of anything she could ask Marcia in order to keep herself from becoming emotional. "What of the Manuscriptorium? Has Beetle sided with the Queen?"

"No, as a matter of fact, he has not sided with her. I'm quite pleased with Beetle. He and…well…he and that young witch" Marcia hesitated, wrinkling her pointy nose as though she had smelled something dreadful, but then pushed on, "found us just outside the Port yesterday evening. Beetle brought a number of the scribes with him. He said that Marissa instinctively knew where to find us though I rather think that is a bunch of rubbish. I'm personally not certain how they located us but the point is that they are both in our camp now. I'm not so sure about the young Witch but Beetle seems to trust her implicitly. Perhaps I've not given her a fair chance. We need all the talent we can get right now."

Syrah was a bit surprised to see Marcia shedding her prejudices in such a way but she supposed that desperate times did call for desperate measures. And these were indeed desperate times. With every passing moment, Syrah was finding it more and more impossible to focus on anything other than the fact that Hildegarde had betrayed the Wizards. After a few moments, she could stand it no longer and she found herself asking aloud the question she had vowed to keep in her head alone. "Marcia," she started, "why did…Hildegarde betray us?"

At the mention of Hildegarde, Marcia winced a bit but she responded without hesitation. "Miss Pigeon did what she felt was her duty and nothing more. Now, we must do ours. Come, Syrah, the time has come to wake Rose. The two of you belong at camp where you will not be found, not in this ridiculous excuse for a hotel. Come along." Syrah, unable to even think clearly, followed Marcia like a zombie from her bedroom toward Rose's, where she prepared to rouse her dear friend from an uneasy sleep. As she was doing so, however, there was a loud, angry knock on the door a floor beneath them.

xxx

The Wizard's camp was a hectic place. Needless to say, the Wizards were quite distraught at the loss of their permanent home and they were none too happy about sharing makeshift tents with other Wizards. With that said, the people were trying their best to make do with their situation. Many of them feared for the few Wizards who had not resided within the Tower, the ones who were likely still in the Castle being subjected to the abuse Queen Jenna was inflicting on all those with **magykal** ability. Even the Heap family had managed to escape the Castle, which was a surprise to almost everyone. Many Wizards had doubted that the Heaps would be willing to leave their adoptive daughter and join a group that was effectively plotting against her but, to the amazement of the Wizards, it seemed that the Heaps had actually come to their senses, although not with any enthusiasm. Silas and Sarah Heap's mutual and apparent depression was contagious and few Wizards enjoyed spending time with them now that they had had to leave Jenna behind. The Heap parents were desolate. Not only had Jenna betrayed the family in the worst possible way, she had locked away the Heaps two eldest sons. Sam was imprisoned for admitting to his love for Wolf Boy, who had gone into hiding and Sarah and Silas could only imagine what horrors he was now enduring. Their eldest, Simon, had been associated with Marcellus Pye, whom the Heaps now believed has been in league with Jenna, and Simon and his pregnant wife, Lucy, were now in Jenna's possession. Sarah was constantly blaming herself, wondering how she had led her daughter astray. Just a few months prior, Jenna had seemed to be developing into a lovely young woman who would make a wonderful Queen. Now, the people of the Castle had on their hands what was perhaps the nastiest situation they had ever had. More than a few of the Wizards blamed the Heap family for the loss of their home and would treat Sarah and Silas and the children who were stationed at camp with them as though they had caused the fire in the Tower, rather than Jenna and Marcellus Pye. Silas could never keep himself from becoming angry at the way in which he and his wife were treated but Sarah was calmer. She did not enjoy the way that the other Wizards blamed her family but she understood why they did. Everyone had lost so much.

In spite of all of the misery, not everyone at camp was outrageously unhappy. In fact, Beetle was relatively pleased, given the circumstances. He was, of course, as disturbed as anyone else by the events that had so recently taken place but he was grateful that all of the Wizards in the Tower had escaped with their lives. He was also extremely happy to be in the presence of Marissa Lane, who enlightened him in ways that no words could convey. However, this interest in Marissa was queer to him. It was simultaneously very like and very unlike his feelings for Jenna. It was similar in the sense that Marissa's mere presence was enough to excite him. Her glorious appearance, her distinct scent of wildflowers that seemed to follow her everywhere, her soft lilting voice. It was dissimilar in the sense that these wonderful things were the only things he noticed at all. Everything that was attractive to him about Marissa was physical or tangible. Her personality was pleasant enough but he had not fallen for it. He felt that he had only grazed the surface of it in fact. When Jenna had stolen his heart, he had found himself falling for every aspect of her, not merely her physical charms. Beetle was somewhat unnerved that Marissa's physical attributes were able to ensnare him so completely but he was trying not to question it for a bit. Life had become so complicated that he was content just to enjoy her for the moment. After all, there wasn't much else to which he could look forward. The whole future seemed dismal, dark. Not a day passed when he didn't wish that things had turned out differently between him and Jenna. He fervently missed the woman he had believed her to be and often prayed just before going to bed that he would wake to find that the whole situation had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare. But of course that never happened, no matter how much he wished that it would.

The evenings were what bothered Beetle the most. In the evenings, Marissa's appearance was all the more magical and alluring. In the light of the campfire flames, her scarlet hair shone and her bright blue witch's eyes sparkled. Often, when the camp became lonely and cold, she would begin to sing in her clear voice and everyone in the camp would grow silent. Even those who did not approve of Witches found themselves a bit in awe of this Marissa. She was maddening, **magykal** in a way that the Wizards found difficult to describe. She was almost undoubtedly the most beautiful woman the majority of the Wizards had ever seen. She seemed inhuman to many, a goddess-perhaps even an angel. Her singing was enough to pull everyone from their beds and fill their hearts with a variety of emotions. A number of the Wizards had come to the conclusion that Marissa's presence at camp was entirely pleasant during the time in which they had been there. Beetle, though, became each day more and more frightened of feelings for Marissa. He hated the way that they stirred him and the manner in which he was unable to defend himself against them, no matter how he tried. He knew that he was not alone in his thoughts about Marissa. He felt sure, when he looked at her, that every man who could see her was having precisely the same wild passionate thoughts about her. In spite of this, he did not feel any less guilty. He knew what he wanted from Marissa and he also knew he could never allow himself to have it for a number of reasons. Reasons he did his best never to forget.

He did sometimes question why Marissa remained with the Wizards. What was it about their cause that so appealed to her? What reason did she have for remaining beside the Wizards of the Tower? When Beetle would question her on this topic, she seemed to find answers that, while they seemed sensible at the time, he could never recall after their conversations. It was as though she had put a **forget **spell on him. But why would she do that? _She wouldn't_, Beetle told himself sternly, _It is all in your head._ This was what he continued to tell himself until the night everything changed.

It was the night that Marcia had gone to fetch Syrah Syara, Rose, and Nicko Heap from the Port. The camp was restless, as though the absence of their leader somehow made the people more dysfunctional and less prepared to deal with the trials of living in a makeshift village with all of their neighbors. Beetle had been sitting in his tent, pretending to read a book-one of the few books he still had in his possession. Ordinarily, Beetle would have been quite content to sit alone and read but now, focusing was hardly an option. It was growing dark and he could see that Marissa's tent, which was just down from his, had a light within it. And, by that light, Beetle could see the young woman shedding her clothing. She had placed the lantern in such a way that all who desired to see her undress could see her shadowy form. What a form it was! Beetle shivered, fighting to keep his eyes on the page before but finding the task impossible. Marissa, no doubt unaware that he was looking, began to rub a kind of balm all over her body and Beetle shuddered. At this, his exasperation reached a breaking point. He groaned and snuffed out the small candle in his own tent in an effort to encourage himself to sleep in order to escape the tortuous sight before him. Initially, this plan seemed a successful one. Beetle closed his eyes and, rather than seeing Marissa, he saw Jenna. Not Queen Jenna but rather the girl he had known when he had been a child. He saw her brilliant violet eyes in his mind, shining out through the blackness. He felt he could feel her beside him now. She was there, she was with him, lying next to him. He was at last to know what it was like to love Jenna completely. He could almost touch her…

When Marissa entered his tent, it all seemed perfectly natural to him. For it was not Marissa he saw, not Marissa to whom he, in his drowsy emotional state, made love. As he touched Marissa's beautiful form, as he loved her completely, he saw and felt only Jenna and it was Jenna's name that escaped his lips when the greatest sensations arrived. By the morning, Marissa was gone.

No one knew to where she had gone and many feared the worst. At Marissa's sudden disappearance, many of the Wizards began to develop a powerful sense of disdain for their ExtraOrdinary Wizard, who had trusted Marissa in the first place. The Wizards could only imagine what Marissa's plans were. Perhaps she was off to tell the Queen of their location. The Queen had, after all, once had ties to the Port Witch Coven. Some of the Wizards recalled the way that Marissa had protested against the Queen publically quite recently and therefore doubted the idea that she was in league with her but the young woman's sudden disappearance brought about the general assumption that she was up to no good. Beetle was the most perplexed at all. Marissa had left him a note upon leaving that read "This has nothing to do with you." Beetle knew not what to make of it and kept it to himself. He was drunk with passion and now with misery. Marissa had been a distraction and, now that she was gone, the pain of losing Jenna and was at last beginning to take its bitter toll on his heart. Beetle was not to know just how much his union with Marissa was to affect his life and indeed the lives of those for whom he cared immensely. His pleasure was not to come without a cost.

xxx

The news that Milo Banda's new wife was to die upon the gallows quickly became the talk of the town. Never in the history of the Castle had a nobleman's wife been put to death in such a disgraceful manner and the citizens were utterly intrigued. The reputation of the women in the Castle preceded them. They were-for the most part-obedient ladies and no one had ever once had any reason to question that. Now, however-ironically enough- a woman had succeeded in causing an immense scandal in the country's most peaceful city. For this reason, it was absolutely necessary that she be punished. Over the past few months, the Queen had instigated the idea that all women-aside from her of course- were inferior to men and the men were taking this idea immensely. The Queen's reasons for doing this, however, were, to the general public, unknown.

It was March the fourteenth, two days prior to the execution of Hildegarde Banda. She had been married no longer than a month. This night is worth mention primarily because it was the first time Milo had been seen outside of his home following the scandal that had so affected his family. It had, in fact, been such a dreadfully long time since anyone had seen Milo that people had begun to wonder whether or not the poor man had fled the city in shame. The citizens pitied him immensely. After all, what man wouldn't be tempted to hide himself from the world after being abandonedby his wife? What man would desire to live with the fact that he had failed to tame the most prized of his possessions? But in spite of all the speculation on the part of the residents of the Castle, Milo's appearance in _The Laughing Pig_, a popular tavern inthe Castle, was evidence that, while his shame was great, it was not enough to force him from the place he had always called home.

Milo's arrival in the tavern caused quite a stir. The men with whom he had oncechatted and played cards on a regular basis were now petrified to be seen with him. The ladies avoided him also for more or less the same reason. It was an unfortunate truth that, while a man tricked by his wife was worthy of all the pity in the world, he no longer deserved respect from his peers. No logical, intelligent man would allow himself to be fooled by a woman, especially by a woman that belonged to him. Anyone associated with such a man would surely begin to lose their respectable reputations as well. The citizens were mindful of this.

Many of the guests at _The Laughing Pig _gasped involuntarily when Milo entered the building and then, realizing in a second what they had done, attempted to conceal their surprise by directing their gazes away from him as quickly as they could possibly manage. Contrary to their beliefs, Milo Banda was not at all a foolish man and he could feel their eyes lingering upon him. He knew their reason for starting and he was only too well aware that, from this point on, they would always stare.

Milo did not acknowledge his audience. He walked nonchalantly to the front of the room and took his usual seat at the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a thick chestnut beard and a somewhat solemn expression, turned to Milo and inquired in a placid tone, "Evening Banda. You're here early. The usual?"

Milo nodded in the affirmative. "Please."

The bartender turned away from his client and began to mix his drink. Milo, in themeantime, remained silent and stared fixedly at the wall. His moment of introspective thought was suddenly interrupted when Clarissa, a slim woman with very long, blonde hair and bright eyes, approached him and took a seat by his side. No one at _The Laughing Pig _was taken aback by this. Clarissa was not even remotely concerned with endangering her reputation-indeed, she had no reputation left to protect. Strangely enough, however, this didn't seem to bother her even slightly. Clarissa wasn't a native of the area and prior to coming to the Castle, she had spent time travelling around the world, surviving merely on the income she had acquired from the odd jobs she had held in the various places she had visited. Needless to say, the residents of the city found Clarissa extremely distasteful. The idea of a woman spending all of that time alone was an extremely frightful thought. The amount of trouble in which a lone woman could find herself was undeniably boundless and not a single person doubted that Clarrisa had done horrific things during her travels. The Wizards had been more lenient, believing that women were certainly no more foolish than men were but the people who could not perform **magyk** had always believed that their Queen was the only woman with sense. Most of them had doubted even Marcia Overstrand when she had been in power.

Milo Banda was not the sort of man who was frequently seen with outcasts like Clarissa. His friends were people of his own class and rank in society. Tonight, though,Clarissa's company appeared to be his only option and it was better, he supposed, to have the company of a strange and disreputable individual than to have no company at was the first to break the uneasy silence. "How do you feel, Milo?"

Milo was simultaneously insulted and shocked. Insulted, because he found Clarissa's question foolish and shocked because he had never imagined that Clarrisa would ask such a thing. She didn't care how other people felt and often went out of her way to inform them of that. Her concerns were only for herself which, she insisted, was the logical way to be. A long moment passed during which neither of them spoke. At last, Milo found the voice to answer her. "I'm fine." He said, even though he wasn't and he knew that she knew he wasn't.

"That's good then." she replied softly, offering him a tiny half smile which he made an effort to return.

Clarrisa shook her head. "It is a terrible shame what has happened in your family. Do you miss your wife terribly much?"

Milo was beginning to become uncomfortable and was starting to wish that Clarissa had never come his way. His response to her inquiry was what it had to be, "Of course not. I had the misfortune to be married to the most dreadful woman who has ever lived here. I am only blessed that the marriage was short."

To his astonishment, Clarissa shook her head dramatically, "With all due respect, Milo, I disagree."

Milo felt his pulse begin to race. "What the devil do you mean? How could anyone disagree with the fact that Hildegarde's conduct was incredibly poor? She has ruined our marriage! She has ruined me."

Clarissa's anger soon grew to match his. "You!" she cried, "All you think about is yourself! It's all any man thinks about now. I watched your wife almost from the day I arrived here in the Castle because I knew she was different from the rest. She lived in her own world, she didn't care what other people thought of her really-she or the lovers she took, and she was never one of your possessions, Milo. That's why you couldn't control her. She was too clever for you. She did as she pleased and she shall die happily. Finally, all of those hideous bonds which prevented her from reaching her true desire will vanish once and for all."

Clarissa's eyes were wild and passionate. Milo was too stunned, insulted, and confused to speak. After a moment, he muttered, "Such words should result in your arrest, Clarissa."

Clarissa smirked. "I don't much care. I would be proud to die alongside your wife. In fact, I-"

But Milo did not allow Clarissa to complete her thought. He stood up abruptly, tipped his hat at the bartender in thanks, and strode quickly out of _The Laughing Pig_. No one, not even Clarissa, made an effort to keep him from going.

Milo's wandering footsteps took him to the local beach which was not even quite a mile from _The Laughing Pig_. Upon arriving, the unfortunate man gazed at the river before him. It had always been a comforting sight when he had been with Marcia. Now, being there just caused him to feel even more alone. After making certain that no one was there to observe him, Milo sank down into the damp sand and covered his face in his hands. For the first time all evening, he allowed his mind to drift.

His thoughts took him to a lovely afternoon that had never happened. His wedding had been a blur to him and, when he envisioned his wedding in his mind, it was not Hildegarde he recalled but Marcia instead. He clearly pictured taking those soft, ivory hands into his own and managing to suppress the sudden urge to bring them to his lips and kiss them. He imagined blushing while saying his vows and his voice quivering with an emotion of some kind-one of those frustrating sorts that he couldn't entirely identify and, although her tone was strong and confident in his thoughts, Milo could not prevent himself from noticing that Marcia's cheeks had turned slightly pink during the ceremony as well, a fact which he found more charming than she would ever know. Less murky in his thoughts than the vows, though, was the taste of that chaste, sweet, first married kiss on his lips. In that kiss, all that had been left unsaid between Hildegarde and Milo had at once been announced in the deepest way possible and he had truly felt empty for the first time in his life. The kiss had reminded him that she wasn't Marcia, would never be Marcia, and now she had betrayed him.

Milo attempted to shake the thoughts of shame from his mind. Hildegarde had made a complete fool of him. Pitying her was not necessary. Queen Jenna's guards had found one of her letters, proof that she had been writing to that wretched Syrah-proof that the stupid bitch was still alive and that-more to the point-Hildegarde's feelings for her were as alive as ever. Jenna had actually been happy when her guards had brought Hildegarde's unfinished letter to her. In it, she had made references to where Marcia Overstrand was hiding. Thus, in writing a letter to Syrah, Hildegarde had revealed the location of the Wizard rebels and given the Queen the ability to crush them all. Marcia had left Hildegarde behind intentionally so that she would be able to be able to spy on what was occurring in the Castle and communicate directly with her though top secret messages. Her loyalty had been to Marcia alone.

Milo continued to think of his wife against his better judgment. He was beginning to come to the conclusion that he was going to have to see her before she was lost to the world. There was something he needed to know.

The Castle's's prison system was unique in that, if a prisoner had been placed on death row, anyone wishing to visit that individual was permitted to make a stop by their cell at any time of the day or night in the week leading up to the execution day. Milo had not intended to see his wife at all but he was starting to awaken to the fact that she really would be gone forever in less than two days and his most pressing question, the question he had been waiting to ask since the previous week when she had made an effort to send that letter, would never receive an answer.

By the time Milo arrived at his wife's cell after being escorted there by a tall, stoic prison guard in black, it was nearly midnight. A pale strip of moonlight fell across the cell and highlighted a slight figure in the corner of the room. Milo gasped as he beheld his wife. Her time in prison, however brief, had done her no good at all. The healthy glow of her skin and the light in her sparkling hazel eyes which had once rendered her so enchanting were now absent. She was as pale and empty as a corpse. Milo hesitated a second before tentatively calling her name, "Hildegarde," he started softly, "Hildegarde, it's me."

Hildegarde nearly jumped at the sound of another voice in the hallway. Clearly, it had been sometime since she had heard anyone speak at all. Her eyes attempted to focus on the man before her and it was a few fleeting seconds before she was able to say, "Milo, you did come after all" as something which resembled a smile made its way across her features. "I didn't think you would."

"And I didn't think you would be happy to see me." He retorted, not as sharply as he would have liked.

"Oh but I am! You have no idea how long it has been so I have spoken to anybody. I rather missed you. I am incredibly bored here. Do you know how long it has been since I have spoken to anyone?"

Milo was a bit unsettled by Hildegarde's sudden apparent interest in him. She had never made an effort to seem especially interested in him before and he couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious. He decided to get straight to the point. Hildegarde seemed ready to prattle on about some other, equally trivialmatter, when Milo cut her short. "Hildegarde, I'm only here for one reason."

All of the color drained from her face and her entire countenance grew solemn. "I know."

He was perplexed. "You do?"

She met his gaze. "You want to know why it happened, what didn't work. You want to know what Syrah Syara provided for me that you could not. This marriage has wounded your pride."

Milo shook his head in a mixture of awe and bewilderment. "It would seem you know me all too well, my dear. But since you've guessed my question in advance, you must, surely, have an answer for it. Do you, Hildegarde?"

"Of course. It isn't an answer that will make any sense to you but I will do my best to explain it. Why wasn't I satisfied with you, you ask? It wasn't really because I loved her any better than I loved you, Milo. I had been noticing you long before you proposed marriage to me. I envied Madam Marcia rather fiercely at that." At the mention of Marcia's name, Milo flinched. Hildegarde went on. "I always appreciated you. I appreciated your kindness toward me, you patience with me. I came to know all of that as we were decorating the Palace together. You gave me a sense that I could correct what I had done wrong. If I could help repair the Palace, I could make up for what I did under DomDaniel's regime." Hildegarde hesitated, as though overcome by her thoughts. "But Milo, it wasn't what I needed. I do have much respect for the Wizards. After all, it was Madam Marcia who gave me a second chance rather than locking me away forever as perhaps she should have. Madam Marcia needed me to stay here, you see. She was always convinced that you had some kind of…affection for me and I guess she was right. You thought I'd make a good wife, a simple wife, didn't you? I'm not as simple as I look. Madam Marcia knew that. That is why she trusted me here, to spy on all of you. You see, I couldn't ever choose the Crown over the Wizards. I am far too indebted to Madam Marcia. But it was more than all that, Milo. I can still see it in your eyes, you want to know why you couldn't make me happy. Even after what I have told you, you still believe me to be a simple girl, easy to seduce and please. But Milo, I only require one thing in life and with you, I could never have it."

"And what might that be?" Milo demanded, irked.

"Freedom." Hildegarde replied in a voice so soft that Milo had to strain to hear her.

"With Syrah, I could have it. I was no possession of hers. Don't you see, Milo? In order to be content, I cannot belong to anyone but myself. Men like you think you can control women, you think that we belong to you. We are your sweet treasures, like little dolls created for the sole purpose of worshipping you. We are here to stoke your shameless egos. Other women are utterly unlike this. There are no traditional roles when your love is another woman. When Syrah and I met, when we touched, when we kissed, we did so as equals." Hildegarde paused trembling with a passion that Milo immediately took for madness. He instinctively took a step away from her. " With Syrah, I had freedom. I could love her without losing myself. She wanted me to love myself. I was not expected or required to submit to her. She never thought of me as belonging to her. When I die in a day's time," she went on "I will finally achieve true freedom. I will escape from this world that has tried so hard to control me in the most permanent way, to keep me from loving who I love. I will escape tyrants like your daughter who think they know what is best for me better than I do. That was all I wanted with Syrah-an escape so that Icould achieve freedom and true love. This, in the end, has perhaps turned out even better for me than a relationship with her could have."

Milo did not understand his wife at all and thought her mad. "So you want to die in order to achieve freedom? Sweetheart, I gave you freedom. I always left you alone to please yourself. I promised you that we could have children, which is the dream of any woman, is it not? I was good to you, I provided for you, I loved you-I chose you, Hildegarde. I admit that I was a bit torn between you and Marcia for a while but I ultimately chose you as my wife. Where did you lack freedom to do as you chose in all of that?"

Hildegarde made no reply initially. Milo grew exasperated and turned to leave. Just as he reached the long hallway, he heard his wife call, "Wait!" From such a distance, she looked like nothing more than a tiny shadow that could fade at any moment. "I could not belong to anyone but myself. I could never be anyone but myself" She repeated, she seemed to be struggling to express herself. "Please try to understand. If I cannot be accepted as I am, I would rather die than pretend to be something that I am not. I could never have ceased my love for Syrah Syara and it would have been impossible for me to support anyone but Madam Marcia in this conflict. That is who I am and I would rather face death than pretend to be anyone else. Just know that you're doing the right thing. In a day, when I am dead, the birds will sing, life will still be merry, and I will be happier than I have ever been. You are doing the right thing by allowing me my freedom, Milo. If I cannot have it on earth, I shall have it for eternity."

Milo shivered in dismay and grief and departed without another word.

The execution occurred at dawn a day later, just as was planned. Citizens from the Castle and the surrounding area gathered around to watch this infamous woman, Milo Banda's horrific second wife, meet her demise. They had all anticipated for months what she might say just before her death. All prisoners were given the right to make a small speech before hanging and Hildegarde would be no exception. People had expected a long speech, a defiant speech. Surely a woman with so few morals and manners would make quite a scene, they were certain. There was much expectation and the crowd was quite noisy until at last Hildegarde Banda ascended the platform and stood before thehangman's noose. She was a tiny figure, not nearly the formidable woman for whom they had all been waiting. Nevertheless, a hush fell over the crowd and Hildegarde cleared her throat to speak.

"To my freedom!" she exclaimed breathlessly, and a triumphant grin appeared upon her visage.

The people waited for her to say more, but she did not. She turned to the executioner and indicated that she was ready. The events that followed went as planned.

The next day was bright and sunny. The birds were singing and life was merry.

xxx

While Milo Banda had been pleading with his wife, his ex lover was finding herself in a complicated situation. She and Syrah Syara had just heard a bizarrely loud knock on the door of the Doll House. It was an intrusive knock, especially given the time of night. Even Marcia, who was no stranger to banging on doors with little to no discretion, found it offensive. But more to the point, Marcia found it potentially dangerous. "Quick, Syrah," she began and the edge in her tone made Syrah automatically nervous, "Go and get Rose. Both of you know a simple **disappear, ** don't you?" Syrah nodded, more than a little offended that Marcia would question her in such a way. Of course she knew a simple **disappear. ** Even Queen Jenna could do that.

"What is the concern, Marcia?" Syrah asked, "Do you think someone has found us already? But how is that possible?"

"I haven't got time for all of these silly questions." Marcia retorted sharply, "Just go and get Rose. This situation could be…tricky."

Syrah knew that by tricky the ExtraOrdinary Wizard meant downright dangerous. She was obviously convinced that someone had betrayed her location. But whom? As the word betrayal fell into her mind, Syrah thought of Hildegarde and rigors ran down her spine. Maybe it had been Hildegarde who had betrayed them now. Had she known that Rose was staying in the Doll House? Had she told Milo or someone else in power? Syrah felt her eyes begin to prickle and she did her best to push all emotion to one side. She had to get Rose now. That was her only priority and she needed to focus on it.

In the hallway, she nearly collided with Merrin, who had no doubt had awoken at the sound of the door knocker being slammed in such an unpleasant manner. "Syrah!" he gasped, "What is-"

"Shh! There is someone at the door."

Merrin adopted a look false surprise. "How did you come to _that _ conclusion?"

Syrah rolled her eyes, "This isn't the time, Merrin. Just get Rose and your mother, okay? And Nicko! Don't forget about him."

"Okay, okay, I'd just like to know what is going on." Merrin said, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "If we're in some life threatening situation, I think I deserve to know about it."

"Honestly, Merrin, it is all happening so quickly. Madam Marcia showed up and-"

"Marcia Overstrand? But she's dead! It is all people have been talking about in the Port. And even if she weren't, she wouldn't come here, Syrah." His voice softened a little, "Syrah, are you sure that you're all right? Given all you've gone through, it wouldn't really be surprising if you had a bad dream. Even Rosie gets them sometimes."

Merrin's comment did not have its intended, calming effect on Syrah. Instead, she felt, for the second time that evening, a bit insulted. "I know what I am talking about, Merrin. She **appeared ** in my room just after you left and told me that the Wizards have gone into hiding. I don't have much time to explain but she has just gone downstairs to see who knocked on the door. The Wizards are alive, Merrin! They've gone into hiding but the majority survived the fire in the Wizard Tower." Syrah was breathless with excitement and relief, forgetting briefly that their current situation was a dangerous one. "And Marcia says that we are going to rebuild the Tower. She plans to take back the Castle and then go to the House of Foryx and fetch Hotep-Ra. I have faith in her, Merrin. That woman could do anything."

The confusion on Merrin's face was apparent. "House of Foryx? Hotep-Ra? Syrah, you _do_ need some sleep. Hotep-Ra has been dead for centuries! What are you talking about?"

Syrah's patience with Merrin had finally reached its end but, fortunately for him, she didn't get the chance to exhibit her exasperation. A scream echoed through the hallway and Merrin jerked in surprise. "Rose!" he cried.

To the amazement of both Merrin and Syrah, Nicko Heap had at last arisen from his bed and, seemingly, from the depths of his depression, and he was now holding Rose close to his body. He was pushing an extremely sharp blade against her throat. "If you try to stop us, she dies." He said simply as a simple smile pushed its way across his features.

Syrah was horrified. "Nicko, what is going on? Why are you doing this? Rose saved you! She brought you back to health. She would never wish you ill will. Put the knife down right now or you will regret it."

Nicko laughed. "She didn't nurse me back to health, you stupid girl. I can never be healthy again. I am ruined. What could you do to me? I'm not afraid of death. But this one is…" he pushed the knife further against Rose's throat. Rose attempted to protest verbally in a seemingly angry manner but Nicko shoved a hand over her mouth and her words were lost. At the sight of Rose, so defenseless and angry, Syrah could bear it no longer. All of the pain she had experienced over the last few months had finally begun to take its toll. She had no idea why Nicko Heap was suddenly against them but she was going to stop him. With what little strength remained in her frail, tired body, Syrah released a **thunderflash**. The **thunderflash** missed Nicko by mere inches and he fell to the ground. Merrin took advantage of the opportunity. He rushed forward, pulled the very shocked Rose from Nicko's arms and then leapt onto the young Heap, punching him as many times as he could until Rose yelled "Stop please!" he a tone desperate enough to make Merrin pay attention.

"Why should I stop?" Merrin demanded, "He could have killed you."

Rose shook her head angrily. "You can't avenge a life by taking another life. Don't kill him, Merrin. You don't have the right."

Merrin was steaming. "Like Hell I don't have the right. He wanted to kill you, Rose. Would you think of yourself for once in your life?"

Rose didn't answer. She seemed dumbfounded, struck by the sight of Nicko lying on the ground, covered in blood. As he looked at Nicko, he began to see what Rose had seen a few moments before. The more he stared at the helpless, angry boy on the floor, the less he saw Nicko Heap and the more he recognized himself instead. This violence brought about by angry had defined Merrin not long ago. Rose was right in that he could not judge another for doing precisely what he had. It truly was not his place. He pulled Rose close to his chest and she did not object. Syrah stood tactfully removed from the pair, silently wondering what Nicko had had planned and how he had ever expected to convince everyone in the Doll House to submit to him. What did he really want?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the wooden front door crashing open. This immense sound was followed in quick succession by the deafening roar of not one but three **thunderflashes ** being hurled at the door. Men's voices called out in pain as they crashed to the floor and Syrah grimaced. They were enemies after all and Marcia was having to defeat them in the most extreme way. Syrah knew that Marcia didn't use **thunderflashes** unless she absolutely had to do so. Things were not looking good.

Nicko's voice cut across the hall. He attempted to rise to a seated position, but to no avail and he eventually settled for delivering his detrimental message on the floor. "I could never betray my sister, Jenna. I've loved her more than you can possibly imagine since the day she came into my life and I will never abandon her. This hotel is surrounded by her guards. It was I who told them where we were. I suggest.." Nicko gasped for breath, suddenly overcome with pain, "I suggest that you submit now and Jenna may spare your lives. If not, you are in for a long evening." Nicko's voice echoed though the empty house. He expected some reponse from Syrah, Rose, Merrin, or even Nurse Meredith but the response he received surprised even him.

"I'd sooner take the lives of every guard than submit to the _Queen's_ whims. This will indeed be a long evening, Mr. Heap, but it will not end in our failure. You will regret that you ever plotted against me." Nicko jumped in shock at the sight of Marcia Overstrand standing at the top of the stairs, a trail of Palace guards all passed out or worse in her wake. He knew that there were many more to come but, for the first time, he felt afraid. The evening was going to be more complicated than he had expected.

**Yes, I brought Clarissa back for the one reader who asked me to. Her part won't be as large in this but I will give her something nasty to do. :) Glad to know that some of you actually like my OCs too. Thanks again and hoped you liked it. Be sure to tell me if you didn't though. **


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Hi guys! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews/pms/ general commentary. I know that this story is kind of dark and it pleases me that some of you are actually seeming to really enjoy it. It means so much to me and I appreciate ALL opinions on my work. Your opinions help me get better. A few of you asked me to explore Syrah's depression further and I think I did that in this chapter as she shows some **disgusting **, unbelievable, and arguably selfish anger. Anger is a big part of depression. This is what I experienced with depression and it really _does _drive your good friends away unfortunately. I'm not sure how well I wrote it here but I gave it a shot. I tried to make it as accurate as possible.

This one is for the lovely Marie who I miss so much and who has agreed to actually READ this silly thing. You are an amazing, beautiful person. I think about you way too much for my own good. XD I'll never forget the fun we had.

Chapter Seven

The last of the Palace guards seemed to be retreating, shocked by the sheer number of their fellows that Marcia Overstrand had been able to defeat in such a short period of time. They were beginning to learn that they were going to have more trouble defeating the Wizards than they had originally believed they would. **Magyk** was not something to be taken lightly.

Marcia herself was exhausted and more than a little dismayed. It had been years since she had caused anyone serious pain and she found herself feeling more than slightly uncomfortable with the idea that she had injured and even killed many of the Palace guards that evening. But she had, after all, had no choice. Had she not acted as she had, Rose, Merrin, and even Syrah would likely have been hurt.

After the men had gone, Merrin had found the courage to address Marcia. It was a bizarre thing to him. After all he had done to Marcia and to the Castle, he had doubted that she would ever look his way again and yet she had spared him by permitting him to go and live with his mother and now she had saved his life. This fact alone gave him the courage to speak to her. "Madam Marcia," he began and found to his immense dismay that his voice was trembling. He made an effort to steady it once he felt Marcia's intense green eyes on him but found that her gaze just made that task all the more difficult, "What should we do with Nicko upstairs?"

A flash of recognition passed over Marcia's features, as though she were just remembering that Nicko Heap was there in the Doll House. "I have no choice but to bring him to camp as our prisoner and attempt to change his mind. I know that he has endured a lot lately but he must come to understand that it was all on account of his horrific sister and he ought not support her any longer. I believe that he has integrity, he has merely misplaced it." Marcia turned her gaze from Merrin to Nicko who was lying on the floor behind him. Merrin suddenly felt the need to explain, "I had to knock him out. He was starting to cause problems. I didn't hit him very hard though, just bumped his head against the ground a few times really. Maybe it will be easier to transport him this way."

To Merrin's amazement and relief, Marcia nodded. "Let's get him then. Come along, everyone. I daren't stay here one moment longer now that I am aware that Jenna has discovered our location. I feel confident that I would be unable to defeat another platoon were they to arrive."

Merrin felt Rose shiver beside him at the thought of another platoon and he sighed miserably. The prospect of going to stay at the Wizard's camp was not an appealing one. He was only too well aware of what many of the Wizard's rightfully thought of him and the fact that he was going to stay among them made him extremely nervous. Perhaps one of the angrier ones, one who had a relative who had died in the **Darke Domaine**, would try to cause him harm. He would not be surprised.

Marcia had read Merrin's thoughts. "I will do my best to keep you safe, Mr. Meredith. That is all I can offer you."

Merrin was a bit wrong footed by the fact that Marcia had seen his thoughts so clearly, but he nodded. "Thank you, Madam Marcia" he said softly, as he felt Rose give his fingers an encouraging squeeze. At least he had Rose. He recalled vividly how she had leapt out in front of the man who had been whipping him and informed him that, if he killed Merrin, he would have to kill Rose as well. She would keep him safe. He could be sure of that. "All right," he said, "I'll go."

xxx

Back in the Castle, Queen Jenna was even angrier than usual. She had just received the news that her guards had failed to defeat Marcia Overstrand and Syrah Syara in a simple attack on the Doll House in the Port. Things, she had to acknowledge, were not looking good. Jenna had done her absolute best to maintain control in the Castle. She knew that, the more divided the people were, the less power they had. In the years before the Wizards, women had been generally considered subservient to men with the exception of the Queen, who was considered to be practically Divine and far above all other men and women. It has been Jenna's intention to return the Castle to this state. In addition to ousting all homosexuals-who had been unwelcome during the years before the arrival of the Wizards-Jenna was doing her best to restrain all women who were attempting to gain power for themselves. It was a popular belief that the Queens had made efforts to see that women were considered second to men in order to assure that no woman would rise up and make plans to steal the Throne from the Queen. If the general population believed that the Queen had a Divine right and that they were beneath her, no such uprising was likely to occur. Thus Jenna had turned the Castle's men and women against one another with surprisingly accuracy. Now, if only she could finish the Wizards, she would have complete power and many of her worries would cease.

More than once, Jenna's mind traveled to Beetle and how he might be faring with the Wizards. Whenever she thought of him, she was unable to deny that she felt a strong, painful ache in her heart. Had it been so easy for him to forget her? There were some mornings when Jenna had to fight the urge to remain in bed for the entire day. She knew that she was gaining power by the day and in effect, becoming stronger than she had ever been, and yet, some days, she missed being the cheerful young girl who had loved her Wizard family, her father, and Beetle with all of her heart. More often than she liked to admit, she would glance in the mirror and shiver at the sight of herself. She looked haunted, she decided, that was the word for it. She had come into this ordeal a beautiful young girl and she was now a weathered looking woman. Life's events were beginning to take a toll on her radiant physical appearance. She had always thought she would have many supporters and allies as Queen, but instead Jenna was finding that she felt more isolated than she had ever had before. Why did her mother, Queen Cerys, want this? And why was it that, in the heat of a fight, she-Jenna-so wanted it as well? She did not understand herself.

Jenna was, on this particular morning, glancing into the mirror and focusing very hard on her less than perfect reflection when she heard a soft knock on her door. She had no doubt who it was. "Come in, Milo," she said softly, "I'm just…I'm just.." Jenna paused. What was she doing anyway? She realized suddenly that she had no idea what to tell her father.

"Jenna," he started, "Are you all right? You look…well you look tired, Sweetheart."

The tenderness in Milo's tone was too much for Jenna and she felt her eyes filling with tears, much to her irritation. "I'm fine." She said, "Just preparing for the day, that's all."

Milo shook his head. "Sweetheart, you don't look well today. Perhaps you ought to stay in bed." He risked a small smile, "Even the Queen can have a break every now and then."

"Why did you pick me?" Jenna asked suddenly and although Milo knew exactly what she meant, he feigned otherwise.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, though there was a quiver of shock in his voice that very nearly gave him away.

"You love Marcia." She said flatly, "You love her like you never loved my Mother. I can tell that." As she said this, Jenna felt deep within her that it was true and her insides churned, as though she had just swallowed poison. She believed for a moment that her anger at the idea that her father could love anyone other than Cerys had the potential to make her violently ill. "You could have chosen her." Jenna managed, "B..Beetle chose her, you know. Her and that horrible little Witch. Why would you have…Why?"

Milo's visage bore what was possibly the saddest smile his daughter had ever seen. "You are my child. I will _always _love _you_ more than anyone else." Jenna was immediately reminded of what Marcellus had told her about her father's love and she felt a chill run down her spine. The old alchemist had been right. The fact that her father would love her no matter what atrocities she had committed was all at once too much for her and she threw her head into her hands and sobbed shamelessly. Her shoulders shook and her body felt weak with fatigue. Milo rushed forward and pulled her into his arms. "Jenna, Jenna," he said soothingly, "What is it?"

"M..Marcia never h-hated me." She stammered through her tears, "She loved me and I've treated her and all of the Wizards…I've..I've.." But this attempted confession was too much for Jenna and she found herself unable to cease her weeping. "I'm a monster, Milo!" she cried, "I've become a monster. You have to understand. My mother, your wife, came to talk to me. She told me…she told me to kill Marcia, that it was the only right thing for me to do. I felt like my mother hated me Milo, I wanted to honor her. She also told me to restore the Castle to the days before the Wizards. She said it was the only way I could have true power." He lips trembled erratically, "But I'm not even sure if that is what I want anymore."

Milo pulled Jenna even closer to him and kissed the top of her head, trying to conceal that he was stunned by what she had said. Cerys had asked her to kill Marcia? To destroy the Wizards? But why? Even if she were outrageously jealous, why would she have dropped such a wretched task on her fifteen year old daughter? Jenna was _so_ young and it was all too much. "She…she gave me the knife, Milo. The one that hasn't been used in many years. I _did _stab Marcia with it, but I didn't slit her throat as I was meant to so she didn't die. I didn't truly forget my mother's instructions, though I tried to convince myself of that at the time. I just _couldn't _do it. I was too weak. You know, I think I thought of that stupid ring Marcia gave me at my coronation and how she said I would make a perfect Queen. I…I…"

"Shh…shh…Darling, I understand. Its all right. Marcia would forgive you. Marcia adores you." This did not make Jenna feel any better.

"What is it that gives you nightmares?" Jenna asked, feeling desperate to change the subject. "I hear you calling at night sometimes. In fact, I've heard you doing that since you returned to the Castle to live with me. I've always wondered what it was. Could you tell me? Have I made you miserable too?"

Milo shook his head in definite disagreement. "No, _no_, Jenna. It is my past, back when I lived in the old country. I had some duties there and I had to see some horrible things. I can't talk about it."

"Not even to me?"

"Not even to you. I saw such horrible things. I don't want you to know about them. Just the thought of them would disturb you."

Jenna found herself feeling like the intrigued little girl who had spent hours talking to Milo long into the night. She smiled to herself. "I bet you never did anything horrible."

"Oh to be sure, I did. We all do terrible things, Jenna. It is all a matter of whether or not we are willing to correct them. I will support you, no matter your decision. Know that."

Jenna smiled, starting to compose herself once more. "I know it." She said softly. She also knew that it was too late, _far _too late, to undo what she had done. She smiled at her father, however, and did her best to keep her face sweet for him. She had planned to send more guards immediately to the Wizard camp but she decided to hesitate. She doubted that they would be prepared to move against her so quickly and something didn't feel right on this day. She would, she decided, wait until tomorrow to make an attack. "Milo, would you like to have some lunch?"

Milo smiled his first genuine smile in months. "I'd like that very much indeed."

xxx

Queen Cerys had abandoned her daughter at last. She was alive again in the most bizarre way. Just a few months prior, a beautiful Wizard woman called Demelza Garrison had vanished. Many assumed that she had been killed in one of the frays that had occurred in the Castle over the last few months. In truth, she had been, but her body had not died. Instead, it had been **inhabited **by something-or rather someone-much darker. Demelza, during her life time, had had an interest in **darke magyk ** and often, when an individual has an interest in that particular subject matter, it is easier for a troubled soul to take advantage of them. Queen Cerys was indeed a troubled soul and she had spent the last few months in search of a body to **inhabit. ** As a Queen who had studied much **Darke magyk, **Cerys understood that she would be able to enter the body of a woman who had been a practitioner of such **magyk ** upon her death and, although Demelza had not practiced **darke magyk** for any reason other than her own amusement, Cerys would be able to use the woman's power to her own advantage. So Cerys had waited, willing Demelza to eventually be killed by Palace Guards. She had grown tired of controlling everything through her daughter and was ready to take matters into her own hands. As Demelza at last died in one of the Castle fights, Cerys claimed her body for her own. Her soul at last had a vessel, a vessel nearly as beautiful as her own had been before she had been gunned down by the assassin fifteen years earlier. She had been lying in wait for the last few weeks, making plans and becoming used to her new form. She would have to take the Throne back from Jenna, no doubt but how and when to do that was still a mystery to her. The child had been useful for a while but she couldn't spare her on account of that. Nor would she be able to spare Milo if he got in her way. She still recalled vividly the anger she had felt at learning that Milo had married Hildegarde Pigeon. Cerys had entered _The Laughing Pig _ on the night that Clarissa Demarte had confronted him and she had attempted to overhear their conversation. But unfortunately for Cerys, Milo had grown furious and left the pub, leaving her alone to further contemplate why he had married Hildegarde to begin with and what his remaining feelings for Marcia Overstrand could be. Unlike Jenna, who had learned the location of the Wizard camp through a letter that Hildegarde had attempted to send to her lover Syrah which had been intercepted by the Palace guards, Cerys had no idea where Marcia's camp was and thus, for the current time, could do nothing to harm the Wizards. Cerys now had a power she had never before had. She had never been able to completely possess Jenna due to the fact that Jenna was still alive. **Inhabiting** a corpse and making it her own body had brought her back to life in a way she never could have imagined she would be. She was honing her power each day though, practicing **magyk ** for the first time in her life and looking forward to the day when the Castle would belong to her once again, once and for all.

xxx

Life in the Wizard Camp was truly unusual for most involved. For a few days, there were constant concerns about Marissa the Witch-why she had left the camp and whether or not she could be trusted. Beetle had grown unusually quiet after her departure, though many assumed it was on account of the fact that he was worried about what was happening at the Manuscriptorium back in the Castle. No doubt he missed being Chief Hermetic Scribe and wondered what had become of his fellow scribes under Jenna's rule. In fact, after some time in camp, it became apparent that many of the Wizards were not happy at all. They missed their home and hated the sensation of living on top of one another. Sarah and Silas were happy to have Nicko with them once again but they worried constantly for Simon, who was still in the Castle. Septimus seemed perhaps the most disturbed of anyone. Being around Rose once more only reminded him keenly of what he had lost-to Merrin no less. Most of the residents of the Wizard Camp seemed to share Septimus's opinion of Merrin which rendered Merrin's every day life in camp quite uncomfortable. Only Rose consistently showed him affection and, as much as he appreciated that and loved her all the more for that, he was beginning to recognize that, no matter what he did, he would never be accepted in the Wizarding community. Even if he was kind to everyone and continued to treat Rose well, they would all resent him. Due to the fact that they resented him, it seemed apparent that they would resent Rose as well. More and more Wizards refused to speak with her every day and rumors that she had heartlessly abandoned Septimus in favor of the "dastardly" Merrin began to fly about the camp. Rose attempted to remain strong but it was not easy to be regarded as a pariah in the camp. She might have mentioned to Syrah that the treatment of the other Wizards bothered her but she could tell that Syrah was preoccupied by Hildegarde and the thought of her surprising betrayal. When people insulted Rose within earshot of Syrah, she always grew extremely defensive of her friend which led the Wizards' general opinion of Syrah to lower as well and Rose did not want that for her. Thus, she tried to bear their treatment of her silently, knowing that it was nothing compared to the way they treated Merrin on a day to day basis. What Rose hated admitting even to herself was that the Wizards' treatment of Merirn was entirely understandable. They did not trust him after what he had done but when had he had a chance to be better? From the time of his birth he had been taught to pursue darkness and ignore the yearnings of his good heart, a heart which Rose felt that only she could see and comprehend. With each day, her love for him grew and her desire to protect him from the hatred in the world grew with it. This love and desire are what led to Rose's heartbreak and her ultimate decision that opening her heart in such a way had been a mistake from the start.

The trouble began gradually. Rose was an observant girl and it did not take her long to realize that Merrin had begun to distance himself from her. He was no longer as affectionate, no longer grasped her by the hands and kissed them, no longer held her long into the night and kissed her until she couldn't breathe, and moreover, no longer took the time he had once taken every afternoon to talk to her about all of the aspects of his life which until this point he had been unable to share with anyone. He had once again become quiet, withdrawn, and even sulky and, to Rose's immense sadness, nothing she was doing was making even a slight difference. She was losing Merrin and it was becoming too much for her. Finally, she found herself feeling so down that she came to the conclusion that she should mention how she was feeling to Syrah. She felt certain that her friend would understand. She knew she was going to speak to Syrah at the risk of making her become defensive and even colder to the other Wizards and she had already isolated herself too much in Rose's opinion but Rose just couldn't bear the thought of letting Merrin slip away from her without doing anything to stop him from doing so. She approached Syrah's tent somewhat cautiously and found her friend lost in thought. She did not, Rose noted, look very healthy. Her thick dark hair was unkempt and her eyes were rather sunken into her head, so that she looked as though she had not slept in weeks. Perhaps she hadn't. When Syrah saw her friend, those dark, miserable eyes brightened slightly, "Rose, come in. It feels as though it has been …well sometime since we have spoken."

Rose nodded, somewhat guiltily. It was true that she had forsaken some of the time she had once spent with Syrah to spend with Merrin. She wondered if Syrah resented that. She knew that if she did, she would never admit to it. "I've got to talk to you about, Merrin." She said abruptly, unable to contain herself anymore. In her friend's tent, she suddenly felt safe and her true thoughts and feelings, for the first time, began to spill forth. "He never talks to me anymore. He doesn't want to do anything with me. I don't even know what I have done. I'd do anything for him, you know that."

Syrah was silent for a moment. "He's a lucky boy, Rose." She said, more harshly perhaps than she had originally intended. She saw immediately that the acrid tone of her voice had surprised Rose and possibly even insulted her. For once, she didn't care. "I always loved all of my friends far more than they loved me." Syrah said bitterly. "It would be nice to know that someone would be willing to 'do anything' for me. I can't even fathom that." If Syrah's tone had been bitter before, it was now angry enough to be a little petrifying. Rose could hear a tinge of self pity in Syrah's voice as well and she loathed it.

"When have I not been here for you?" she demanded, "I get that you're upset that Hildegarde betrayed the Wizards, you have every right to be but don't take it out on the rest of us."

Syrah laughed, "When were you _not _here for me? What kind of a question is that? When they arrested me and tortured me, where were you? When they took all of the homosexuals into custody and did horrid things to us, things you cannot even possibly imagine, where were you? You could have been there. You and your precious Merrin could have done _something_. But I guess it was too dangerous. Is the thought of possibly losing your freedom in an effort to free a friend from hell so overwhelming?" Syrah was seething and Rose was shocked by the fury she had apparently kept bottled within herself for such an extended period of time. She felt her own fury rise to meet her friend's.

"Syrah, people have _died _in this conflict, friends, family members, people I _loved_. _You _survived and I would be willing to endure any level of hell in order to bring them back." Rose was shaking and her eyes were filled with tears. Syrah, in spite of herself, felt a stirring admiration from her even if, in her opinion, Rose did not exactly know what she was saying. She did not, could not, understand the depths of hell and the sense of self loathing, of anger, of apathy that came with it. Rose was wrong, Syrah thought. Syrah's soul _had _died in that hellish prison cell and, no matter how she tried to carry on with her life, that fact remained.

Syrah swallowed, attempting-badly- to conceal her anger for another moment longer. "Rose, I would die one thousand times before enduring what I endured. It _ruined _me and my faith in everything. Even in you. I prayed every day that you would come back, that you would come to rescue me but you never did. I guess it was foolish of me. I even made excuses for you while I was in prison. I'd say, 'Rose has Merrin, she has so much to lose. I was a bad friend to her, she won't come.' My whole _life_ I have done nothing but sell myself _short._" Her voice lowered and became what could only be described in a word as a hiss, "Those people who died were lucky! They got away _lucky_! Death brings instant relief. It is oblivion and that is what I want. That is what I will have when my duties to the Wizards are at an end." Syrah's lip curled into a snarl. "You do not understand. You don't seem to understand that death is not the worst thing a person can endure. Death is a freedom, a release." Syrah was blissfully unaware that she was speaking along the same lines that her ex lover had, not long before.

Rose, clearly disgusted, got up to leave. "You can't blame yourself for their deaths." Syrah said quietly, and the change of her tone surprised Rose so that she remained inert, watching her friend to see what she would say next. "But why…why did you leave me?" As soon as it had come, Syrah's anger vanished and was replaced by the emotions she had been dreading so long. "I love you, Rose, you're like my sister. Why did you leave me?" Her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears, "I don't want you to blame yourself for the deaths of others. You've never done anything but love others. You are not to blame for anything at all. But you could have saved me. Was I just too difficult to love toward the end?"

Rose shook her head and slowly approached her friend. "Syrah," she said seriously, "I _did _try. You can ask Merrin. While you were in prison, I thought of almost nothing except how I could free you and everyone else like you-like us. It is your choice whether you wish to believe it but I _never _gave up because I care about you and always have."

Syrah was making blubbering sounds, much in the way a foolish child who has become overcome with the lose of something that mattered immensely to him, "You never…I thought…I thought I didn't mean anything to you…all this time. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I resented you, Rose. I'm sorry I resented your relationship with Merrin. I've got eyes. I know it isn't going well and I know that that is because of the way that the Wizards view Merrin. But you know, I didn't care. I didn't care that you were hurting because I thought you didn't care about me." Syrah sniffed loudly, "It was all so childish."

Rose approached her friend and pulled her into her arms. "It's all right, Syrah. We're both a bit tense right now. We just didn't need this tonight. I'm happy that you talked to me about your real feelings but I wish we hadn't had to fight to have this conversation."

Syrah sighed, "I just wish I could help you. I don't actually know _what _you could do about Merrin, love. I honestly didn't think other people's opinions would bother him this much. "

Rose shook her head. "Me either. I just want things to go back to the way they were. I've never felt about anyone the way that I feel about him."

"I know, I know. It may turn out better than you think, you never know. All he has to do is something heroic, something admirable, and the people will forget the wrong that he has done, you'll see."

"He has tried that before, Syrah, and the last time he did, he ended up tied to a _whipping _post. I just..I just wanted more for him, that's all."

The pair sat together in silence. Occasionally, they were attacked by brief bouts of tears but it wasn't as embarrassing as either of them had believed it would be. In fact, it felt good to stop concealing what they had been trying to keep inside for so long. Their situation was not at all good but at least they didn't have to face it alone. However, bad situations often have a habit of becoming worse before they become better and Rose and Merrin's situation was no exception to the rule. The morning after Rose spent the night in Syrah's tent, Merrin, like the mysterious Marissa before him, was gone, leaving Rose alone to ponder, as she usually did, what she could have done to make him stay.

xxx

It was dusk and already the celebrations had commenced. It was a special evening indeed, and it wasn't often that there were any causes for joy at all in the newly founded, small village of Wothering. It was the night of the great fair in town. There would be many guards in town to monitor the citizens' behavior but that would not be so bad. At least they were entitled to have fun for once. The residents there were constantly exposed to the horrors of abject poverty and starvation and, although the attempts by the Queen to purge the country of Wizards of all manner and type seemed to have ceased, very few members of that culture felt entirely safe. Queen Jenna seemed to have stopped her persecution of the Wizards, though those who had remained in the Castle due to the fact that they had never resided in the Wizard Tower, were confined to Wothering, a village that had been established for them just outside of the city and they were not permitted to enter the Castle for any reason. Thus the Wizards were undeniably outcasts in the area, but they did not abandon the country for the simple reason that there was no longer any place on earth in which they were welcome. They had one another and their small cramped village, that was all. While even the poorest citizens of the Castle would have objected to the lifestyle that the people of Wothering were being forced to lead, many of the Wizards had become accustomed to this way of life, no matter how drab, and no longer had the desire to achieve greater things. After all, it is far better to reside in a lackluster village than to spend one's life attempting to evade persecution or worse-losing one's life entirely. Most of the remaining Wizards were simply pleased to be living and in a place in which they were no longer greeted with slurs and acts of extreme violence. The only individuals who were displeased with life in Wothering were the ones who _remembered_ and they were quiet now, so their opinions mattered little at all.

The Wizards in Wothering no longer had permission to perform **magyk ** of any kind and guards had been placed at stations throughout the village in order to enforce this rule. This rule hardly affected the youngest residents of Wothering as a few of these children had never performed much **magyk** and thus did not miss the sensation of doing so. The older ones-the ones who remembered-knew that the punishment for performing **magyk **or exposing their children to it was dire indeed and did not chance it.

Most homes in Wothering were constantly open to visitors and people often entered one another's homes unannounced. There was, in the entire village, merely one home that seemed to be an exception to this and that was the residence of Simon Heap and his wife, Lucy, both of whom enjoyed distancing themselves from village life. When there were celebrations, they did not attend; when there were funerals, they did not weep. As a result of their lack of enthusiasm for village life, the majority of citizens of Wothering resented the Heaps and even distrusted them. There was even, among the citizens, some disdain for Simon Heap because of the deeds he had done so many years before but the younger people recalled nothing of that and simply disliked him because he was so very aloof.

Months of strife and confusion had stolen some of Simon and Lucy's youthful beauty and Lucy's pregnancy, due to circumstances, had, naturally, been very difficult. There were fleeting moments when the shine in Lucy's eyes could still be noticed and the gleam of her chestnut hair was still visible. When they had lived in the Castle, Simon and Lucy had almost been admired. They had never been wealthy, but Simon had been an accomplished Wizard and the celebrated new Alchemie apprentice and Lucy had earned money as a seamstress so they had had enough to get by. But more than financial security, many people had envied them their love for one another, a rare and pure love which they had seemed to want to share with the whole world. There were still traces of that love now, but after all that had happened, who could really expect it to have survived with the same energy it had once possessed? The depth of their love was no less than it had been but the chemistry was lacking. It seemed miserable to Simon that he should feel so little for his wife when they were going to have a child together but now, his head had no time for such things. His heart and his love belonged to the cause and-to some extent-the woman who represented it.

Matters became exceptionally complicated for Simon and Lucy when a young girl decided that she was going to interview Simon for a school project. It was considered healthy to discuss the history of the Wizards in order for Wizard children to remember why performing **magyk **was horrible. The teachers in classes would explain to the students that the Queen was doing a good thing for the people of the Castle. Wizards were potentially dangerous, after all, and it was best that they were kept away from the monarchy and taught to ignore their **magykal** abilities. One young girl named Alice TodHuntermoon was given the unsavory assignment of interviewing Simon Heap, who had once been one a respected Wizard in the Castle. She would then give a report to the class about Simon's reasons for accepting the Queen's rules and deciding to relinquish his place as a Wizard and "reform." This would be an important lesson as it would remind students of the dangers of performing **magyk. **

Alice had been more than a bit nervous about interviewing Simon due to the fact that people tended to insist that he was moody. At first, Alice was able to observe no signs that indicated this, however. Alice was escorted by Lucy into the sitting room, where Simon offered her tea and he began to discuss what about being a Wizard had appealed to him. Alice did not think for a moment that he would neglect to mention why becoming a Wizard had ultimately dangerous. Simon was rambling on and it took Alice a moment to recognize that she was not really listening. Thinking of her grades in school, she forced herself to be more attentive. "_I _ was never satisfied," Simon was saying, "I wanted to live in the center of the city, where the wealthiest Wizards lived. I wanted to be noticed for my abilities and my talent. At the time, I thought myself a very skilled wizard. It wasn't until much later that I finally came to terms with how lacking I truly was in talent compared with others. I was far superior to my father, but I feel that I was worth than most and, because I was mostly self taught, my technique was terrible."

Alice listened closely, beginning to think that Simon would tell her that poor technique had been his downfall-that an innocent person had been hurt or killed on account of it but he didn't. " There was a position I fancied for myself," he went on, "a position coveted by all Wizards-"

"The position of ExtraOrdinary Wizard." Alice finished for him, her tone trembling. She had not said the word aloud since her family had moved to Wothering. It was now illegal to even mention that there had ever been such a high position awarded to Wizards. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard had been pivotal to the Castle's existence for hundreds of years. There had always been an ExtraOrdinary Wizard to organize all of the affairs of the Wizard population in the Castle and even be an advisor to the Queen, or regent in some cases, if the monarch happened to be a child. Even Alice knew that, prior to Queen Jenna's order that **magyk** be banned, the most powerful position in the country had belonged to the Wizards. The monarch had been little more than a figurehead. Alice did not even know who was running the country now, an advisor perhaps? With the ExtraOrdinary gone, it was hard to know. Still, she found it hard to believe that Simon had once thought himself talented enough to attain the position. She glanced up and her eyes met his piercing emerald green ones.

"Yes," Simon muttered, "I had spent my whole life studying and I was determined to become ExtraOrdinary Wizard. I had it all planned out. I abandoned my family at eighteen and attempted to marry my wife at nineteen. My parents would not have approved of a marriage between us. Our families quarreled. She has no **magykal ** blood in her veins though. I feel wretched sometimes…for…dragging her into this, I guess. She didn't have to do this. If it weren't for me, she'd still be in the Castle right now instead of the slums." In spite of herself, Alice gasped at Simon's audacity. No one dared to call the area the Queen had set aside for the Wizarding families "slums." It was unheard of. "Lucy was always faithful to me, always more than I deserved. Now, I've pulled her into a life of extreme poverty. When she first started living with me, we rented one of the cheapest flats we could find in the Port. There were leaks, roaches, rats…but Lucy was strong, and she seldom complained. She should have complained." Simon's expression was full of bitterness for a split second but he changed the subject before Alice could really question him. "The uprisings in the last year or so, I'm sure you recall them, were insane. People were always talking about how the Queen," Simon struggled, reminding himself that he could no longer refer to Jenna as his sister, "and the ExtraOrdinary Wizard did not get on well and the citizens were beginning to choose sides. Queen Jenna is adored by her people. She is young, charming, and beautiful and it has helped her immensely. People are often shallow enough to take someone's side if they possess those qualities."

"Did you know the ExtraOrdinary Wizard?" Alice asked, finding herself suddenly enthralled by Simon's story. Speaking of the Wizard politics in this way felt so delicious, so forbidden. She had never known anything like it.

"I did. I knew her well, in fact. Marcia Overstrand. I reckon we were all a bit in awe of Marcia. She gave us hope when hope was dashed, whenever everyone was calling us horrible things and making us feel useless. She was always a symbol of what Wizards should be, powerful, dignified…charming." Simon paused, realizing suddenly that he had said far more than he had intended. "I'm sorry, Alice, but I can't help but be furious when I think of the _freedom _ our people have lost. There are so many things you will never know because Queen Jenna has limited us, trapped us like rats in coffee cans. And Marcia is dead. She died when the Tower burned. You already know that. The Queen's guards took countless Wizards by surprise and executed them mercilessly…you can't imagine. They say ultimately the Queen's father convinced her to spare those of us who survived and allow the remaining Wizards to live in this god forsaken place and no doubt he did that because the whole Castle knew how in love he was with Marcia Overstrand. For some reason, Jenna listened to him." Simon's tone grew passionate, "Can't you see, Alice? Don't you understand that we-you- were destined for more? We once had so many privileges only to have them snatched away."

Little Alice was horrified at Simon's words. Never before had she heard an adult paint the past in such a positive light. She knew all too well that that her teacher would believe that Simon was a dangerous man due to the way he was discussing the past of the Wizards. Without warning, Alice tore out of Simon's sitting room, out of his home, and out onto the streets. When she arrived in the streets, she glanced around herself breathlessly. The conversation in which she had just participated had been nothing short of treason. If someone were to discover that she had participated in it and then concealed it from the crown, she could be caught-she could be shot as a spy! It was all too much.

As Alice was frantically mulling over what she perceived as a desperate situation, a guard walked past and tipped his hat toward her in a friendly manner. Alice thought of how Simon would chastise this nice man just because it was his duty to keep the Wizards from leaving Wothering. It wasn't right. If the Wizards were as reckless as her teacher always said, then this was the right place for them.

Before Alice herself even realized what she was doing, she motioned toward the officer and said, "Simon Heap, resident of house twenty-six on the south side of town has just broken the law by telling the stories he remembers. He just told me about his days in the Castle."

The guard's face darkened. "Very well. Thank you for the information. This society needs strong, honest people like you to keep it healthy." Then he was off, gone to arrest Simon, no doubt. Alice sat alone, feeling thoughtful and slightly pensive. She knew she ought to be more upset about getting a man arrested, but she couldn't be. By doing so, she had made certain that she would never be convicted for treason. Besides, Simon's desire to have more than he was allowed to have had been exceptionally greedy. But of course, Alice was too young and inexperienced to see the truth. Simon had known freedom once and he simply couldn't be content to live in a world in which freedom and individuality had been stripped from him. But the people of Simon's generation would fade one day and, in their place, a new generation was rising, a generation that would know nothing but the new state and the lack of freedom and thus would never question it.

xxx

Merrin was lost. He hated to admit that, but he was. He ventured past the Port and now had no idea where he was. Somewhere in the Forest no doubt, but where? The Forest was immense and all he had ever heard about it was that it was incredibly dangerous. He began to feel spooked as he passed every corner, half expecting to find a wolverine or carnivorous tree waiting to devour him. Just as he rounded a corner behind an especially tall tree, he was shocked by the sound of a voice calling his name. "Merrin Meredith!" it called, "Merrin, I have a plan for you. Come to me."

As though in a trance, the young man turned and his eyes were treated to the sight of an exquisitely beautiful woman. She was tall with golden tresses that fell down her back in a rich stream. Her eyes shone green but flecks of black covered them in places, indicating to Merrin that she had been exposed to **darke magyk**. Her form was slender and well proportioned. Merrin sighed at the sight of her. Although her obvious relationship with **darkeness ** would have seemed dangerous to him some hours before, he now felt completely comfortable in the presence of this woman who could lead him to a warm place for the night, lead him to a place where he would be accepted and welcomed for once, even happy. Merrin felt a smile come over his features and he managed, "What is your name?"

"I am called Clarissa and you and I are going to know each other quite well." With these words, Merrin suppressed his desire to be anything other than what DomDaniel had raised him to be so many years before. He was made for darkness. The light, he was now sure, would always reject him and therefore, he knew he had no choice but to play in the shadows in order to catch some glimpse of what it meant to belong somewhere.

Unbeknownst to Merrin, not long after his departure, a marriage between Rose and Septimus Heap was arranged mostly for political reasons. Merrin would one day truly grasp what he had lost and, in turn, what he had gained.

**What political reasons I am sure you are wondering! Haha, wait and see. We all know that Merrin loves Rose and Rose loves Merrin but it gets a little more complicated than that in these next few chapters. We're going to be following this couple around a lot. I hope you enjoyed this one!**


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, guys! A lot of stuff came up last week so I'm a few days late. :( hope no one was waiting with baited breath. Haha! Thanks as always for your wonderful comments. You are all amazing.

Chapter Eight

There was a fair amount of excitement in the Wizards' camp. An alliance was to take place in the form of an upcoming marriage between Septimus Heap, whom the Wizards revered as one of the most talented of their clan and Rose, the girl whom he loved. While the match was, as Septimus told many of his peers, one of love, it did have a political motive behind it as well. Not long after Merrin Meredith had abandoned the Wizard camp, the camp had been visited by the Wendron Witches. This was not something of which Marcia would have approved had Septimus not insisted that meeting with them, and with Morwenna Mould, the Witch Mother, in particular, was extremely crucial. Septimus had rather hoped that Morwenna would know something about the alluring Marissa and why she had vanished so suddenly. He had managed, after much effort, to convince Marcia that it was worth knowing what Marissa's plans might be and that Morwenna might even be helpful to the Wizards considering the fact that Jenna seemed bent on ridding the world of any kind of **magyk** and Witches were, after all, practitioners of **magyk**. He also noted that the Witches had never been enormous supporters of the royal family and might be willing to throw their lot in with anyone opposing the Queen. Although Septimus's plan was a logical one, it did not achieve his initial goal but rather another. Unfortunately, Morwenna knew nothing of Marissa's whereabouts or potential plans and was actually visibly distraught to learn that the girl was still living in the area. However, she was, after spending a few moments at camp, able to identify Rose.

It is said that a Witch will always **know** another Witch, no matter how long she has been separated from the Coven and Morwenna knew Rose at once. Years before, one of the Wendrons, called Bethany, had fallen in love with a Wizard boy in the Castle. Morwenna had reminded her repeatedly that the Castle could be dangerous and that it would behoove her to find a handsome warlock outside of the Castle walls but the girl had refused to listen and, much in the same way Marissa once had, she had abandoned her coven in favor of the Wizard boy's affection and she had never returned. Now, so many years later, Morwenna found that she was looking into the eyes of a child who was the very image of Bethany, the girl who had left her coven so abruptly. She knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that Rose was the daughter of a Witch. Normally, Morwenna would have felt nothing more than amusement toward a young Wizard girl descended from Witches but this girl was different. Bethany had not been merely any Witch to Morwenna and Morwenna felt that it was her duty to support the cause to which poor Bethany's daughter seemed so devoted. It was in this way that the Wizards attained the support of the Wendron Witches in their feud against the crown. That support was to be symbolized by a new alliance, the marriage of Septimus and Rose. Septimus couldn't have been happier with the match but Rose seemed surprisingly calm about all of it. The majority of the women in the Wizarding community would have given anything to be married to Septimus and yet Rose seemed quiet and collected regarding her situation which just led the other Wizards to resent her more. They whispered about Merrin and the fact that her feelings for "that monster" were clearly greater than those she had felt for Septimus. However, even if this were so, Rose did not betray her fiancé in thought or deed. She did not mention to anyone how she felt about the wedding. She knew that it was necessary-the Wizards needed all of the assistance they could get-and thus she maintained her silence and endured her situation. Syrah made efforts to reach Rose's true feelings on the issue but even she failed. She knew that when Rose did not want to share her reasons for doing something, Syrah would simply have to wait until she was ready to speak on it. The wedding was drawing nearer and nearer each day and, as they approached the date, Syrah felt dread grow from inside her like a wild, terminal cancer. She knew that, soon after the marriage, the Wizards and their Wendron allies would march on the Castle. Many innocents could die. Aside from that, she pitied her friend, hoping each day that she would reconsider this marriage that she did not desire but knowing, deep down, that Rose was too loyal to withdraw from the commitment on account of her own, personal wishes.

xxx

Milo Banda was lying awake in his bed, tossing and turning in an effort to fall asleep. Lately, sleep had been consistently evading Milo and, when he did achieve it, it was filled with images of horrible things. Often, he had a dream in which he arrived just in time to see Cerys in the Throne Room, holding baby Jenna out toward him, seconds before she was shot. He always arrived seconds too late to stop the assassin from shooting that silver bullet into his wife's beautiful tawny flesh. Other nights, he had a dream in which he could hear Marcia screaming, screaming in a way he could not imagine she would in real life, and he was unable to find her. He was walking through a hideous labyrinth, listening to the sound of her screaming in pain. He would only wake when the screams had ceased and Marcia was dead. It was enough to drive him mad, make him feel haunted. While the dreams were atrocious, he was silently thankful that his nightmares did not involve Jenna.

_Jenna_. His sweet daughter who had been manipulated by the woman he had once loved more than anyone in the world. It was almost too horrible for him to believe. Had Cerys really loved him so much that her jealousy had been enough to drive the whole Castle into chaos? In spite of himself, Milo was somewhat flattered. Cerys had always seemed aloof toward him in life. He had always felt as though he had loved her more than she had loved him. Apparently, that had not been the case after all. Milo was though, more than slightly disturbed by Cerys's decisions. He could not understand why she was intent on causing havoc in their daughter's life. All she had done was complicate things for Jenna. He wished that Cerys would **appear** to him. There was so much that he wanted to tell her. He was sure that he could make her understand, if only he could see her. He finally stopped all efforts to sleep and walked toward the window in his bedroom, unaware that he was about to get his wish.

There, in the garden below, stood an incredibly beautiful woman. She wasn't terribly tall but the manner in which she carried herself made up for that in Milo's opinion. She seemed simultaneously demure and confident. Her hair was long and dark and resembled, he couldn't help but note, Cerys's hair. He shook himself, convinced that he was seeing things.

Milo stared out the window, unable to tear his eyes from the creature before him. It took all of his will to keep from opening the glass window before him and calling out, "Cerys!" but he hesitated, knowing that it could not possibly be Cerys. Cerys was dead. It was then that the woman turned and faced the window. Perhaps she had sensed Milo's eyes on her. Milo felt at once quite uncomfortable. He thought to draw the curtains on the mysterious trespasser and will her to go away but he found that he was completely unable to do this. Instead, he stood, inert, watching as the petite beauty's dark eyes met his. Milo shuddered. The woman was very nearly Cerys's doppelganger and yet her eyes were dark, the eyes of a practitioner of **darke magyk**. Milo recalled all too well all of the warnings Marcia had given him about **darke magyk** and he found that he was suddenly very apprehensive at the idea of meeting this woman. But it was, he realized now, too late. As his eyes met hers, her eyes widened in surprise and her full lips parted in what Milo took to be a smile. In spite of his better judgment, Milo found himself smiling back, suddenly sure that this was Cerys. Cerys was home at last! Milo closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms for the first time in more than fifteen years.

When he opened them, the first thing that he noticed was the beautiful woman, his "Cerys" had vanished from view entirely. Immediately, a sense of despair stole over Milo. For more than fifteen years, Milo had been longing for a glimpse of his wife. For just a few minutes, while he had been staring out of the window, he had felt as though some void in his heart had been filled at last. Before he was able to prevent it, Milo felt a sob rise in his throat. It was then that he felt it, a very light but definite touch on his right shoulder.

Quick as a flash, Milo wheeled around, determined to catch a sight of who-or what-had touched him. When he turned, he found himself once more staring into those dark eyes. "I..I..." he stuttered and tears filled his eyes. He had no doubt now. There was a presence about this woman that was so like Cerys that it could truly be no one else. But how? Milo reached out to touch the woman but his hand fell short. He was trembling with emotion. Cerys-for Milo was right in his assumption regarding her identity-seized his hand as it fell. "Milo, dearest, it really is me. I've come back for you and for the Castle. The Time is Right for me to assume the position of Queen once again."

Milo's mouth dropped open and Cerys noted that he rather resembled a fish that had been dragged out of the moat. She decided to ignore this. "You must inform our daughter that, although she has done well , she must stand aside. There can be only one Queen and Jenna is still so young. As long as I am living, I am the rightful Queen."

"But how...Cerys, love, how is it that you are living? For years you have been..." Milo stopped, still, after all this time, unable to refer to his wife's death in words. However, Milo's pause quickly changed from one of grief to one of amazement as he remembered something Marcia had once told him about the art if necromancy. "Necromancy is a ghastly business, Milo. Once a person's soul becomes **darke **enough, it is very easy to perform. Any ghost with a **darke** enough soul can use necromancy in order to rise from the grave if he or she comprehends the art well enough and succeeds in locating a body to **revive**. The only condition regarding the body is that the individual who originally used it must have been practicing at least a bit of **darke magyk** during his lifetime. That is all. Only the most terrible of ghosts can truly bring themselves back from the dead using the art of necromancy. Remember that."

Milo did remember and all at once he knew exactly what Cerys had done. She had, somehow, managed to find a Wizard who had been considerably similar to her in physical appearance but there were still noticeable differences. Cerys could now perform **magyk-darke magyk**-and, if Marcia could be believed, she was truly terrible now. Normally, Milo would have rejected this idea because he had always been determined to see the best in Cerys, but after all that Jenna had told him about Cerys's ghost directing her life for the past few months, Milo was even more inclined to believe Marcia than he would have been otherwise. Infatuation with Cerys's beauty had blinded him to the truth and now she was back, more powerful than ever, and expecting to find an ally in him. This, Milo felt sure, could only end in disaster.

"Um Cerys, love," he began cautiously, "Jenna has already gone through with her coronation. She is the Castle's Queen and will be until the time of her death. Your presence does mean that she will lose her title now that she has attained it. I'm sure that she will be very pleased to see you even if it is under unconventional circumstances but she truly is the Queen now."

Cerys's broad smile quickly dissolved into a sneer that was nothing short of frightening. "Who put such nonsense into your head? That whore Marcia?" Milo had to bite his tongue in order to keep from defending Marcia verbally. Marcia was many things but a whore was hardly one of them. In fact, Milo still recalled vividly that it had been some time before she had permitted him to become even slightly intimate with her. It had made him cherish his moments with her more. She was, he admitted to himself, the first truly classy lady he had ever had the pleasure of courting.

Cerys was impatient. "Answer me, Milo."

"No one told me that. I simply know the laws of the Castle as they have always been. My daughter is the Queen."

"I am the rightful Queen." Cerys snapped.

"Not until the day she dies." Milo retorted forcefully. "Cerys, I don't know why you think playing with our daughter's head and forcing her to make decisions with which she isn't comfortable are good ideas but you need to stop immediately. I will always care for you, Cerys but your jealousy has divided the entire Castle."

"I have done nothing but return the Castle to what it was meant to be!" Cerys cried furiously. "It was not meant to be run by the Wizarding people. It was intended for the Queens. Surely you, as my husband, agree with that. You are my husband, Milo. As long as we are living, that is so. We are both living now and I intend to live a very long time. Do you know where I could go about finding Marcellus Pye? He proved very useful in eradicating this city of the Wizards and I can but hope that he will be useful to me as well."

Milo knew exactly what his wife was thinking. "You cannot live forever, Cerys."

"It is not for you to say what I can and cannot do, Milo. I will have my Throne and I will have it as long as I desire it. I shall have no choice but to defeat anyone who stands in my way. I will kill for my Throne, Milo, for as long as I am living, it is rightfully mine."

Milo stood his ground. "No, it belongs to Jenna as long as she is living."

Cerys's eyes clouded. "So be it then." she hissed, "I am not alone, Milo. I will return and, when I do, you will either accept me as your Queen or you will die. Prepare Jenna for what is to come. I know that she will yield to me. The child knows her place. You must learn yours." With that, Cerys vanished before Milo's eyes once again, leaving him incredibly frightened for his daughter's safely and wondering what exactly Cerys had meant when she said she wasn't alone. Milo knew that things were going from bad to worse.

xxx

While Milo was being shocked by the presence his wife, his daughter was preparing her guards for the assault on the Wizards' camp. She had stayed up late into the night, discussing her plans with the Captain of the Guards. She had always felt certain that it would be a relief to finally rid herself of the Wizards' camp once and for all but now, all she could feel was a deep sense of grief over what was going to be lost the following night in a surprise ambush. For the first time, Jenna found herself wishing that she had never intercepted Hildegarde's letter to Syrah Syara. Jenna found she didn't _want_ to know where the camp was after all. She would rather go on not knowing if it meant that the lives of the Heaps would be spared. She could not exactly understand what was coming over her. Just days ago, she had been thrilled at her success. She was at last restoring the Castle to what it was meant to be. Unfortunately, today she felt weighed down by an enormous pressure. The thought of living in a world that did not include Sarah, Silas, and her six brothers suddenly seemed incredibly dull and lonely. Would she be able to keep her head up without them? Somehow, just knowing that they were still alive had been enough to keep her motivated. With them gone, how would she manage?

After she had dismissed the Captain of the Guard, Jenna sat in her bed chamber and frantically blinked back tears. As she did, she recalled something Marcellus Pye had said to her on a recent visit to the Palace. "I can't take part in any more of your grand schemes, your Majesty. It simply does not feel right. I cannot even recall the night of the fire in the Wizard Tower. Everything seems to be a cloudy haze to me, as though I was not there at all. I cannot bear to do anymore treacherous things and remember nothing of them later. Do with me what you will." Jenna had been shocked at the alchemist's bold words but perhaps not as shocked as he had been when she had simply dismissed him after he had said those words, rather than sending him off the Dungeons. But Jenna's reason for dismissing Marcellus had been simple. She too felt as though she had just arisen from some wild, deep haze that prevented her from remembering what had motivated her to commit such mad actions. She could tell that something was going on but what? Jenna was the first to admit that she was no expert in understanding the motivations of other people but she had found it extremely obvious that Marcellus Pye had developed an affection for Marcia Overstrand. Surely, in his right mind, he would never have consented to allow the Drummins to burn down the Tower. Jenna sighed as her tears at last broke loose and streamed endlessly down her pale cheeks. "It is maddening," she whispered softly, "Utterly maddening." She very briefly allowed her thoughts to turn to Beetle and thought of him for a moment before the pain became too great for her to continue to do so and she turned her thoughts to Septimus instead. Septimus, her trusted, wonderful Septimus, would die the next night. The thought was too much for her to bear. Jenna threw herself onto her bed, muffled her face in one of her finest pillows, and screamed, a cry of anguish that echoed off the walls of the Palace and sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it. To all those close to the Queen, the truth seemed obvious. She was lost.

xxx

Not far away, Merrin Meredith was following the entrancing Clarissa Demarte through the Forest. He wasn't entirely certain where Clarissa was going but it didn't matter. She had treated him as an equal, an individual rather than an outcast and the feeling was welcome after all of this time. She seemed to think that he would be useful and that was, at the moment, what he desired most in the world. He had felt much for Rose, had perhaps even loved her in his way, but it had all been too much and he had been a worthless burden to her. She would be happier with someone else. Rose deserved health and happiness, two things she almost certainly couldn't achieve while he was living among the Wizards. He had never known happiness as he had known it with Rose but he was beginning to come to the conclusion that he hadn't been meant to know happiness in that way. The dark were meant to be paired with the dark. He should, he realized now, never have lost sight of that very important truth.

Clarissa paused at a clearing in the woods. "We will need support," she said abruptly, catching Merrin by surprise. "There is a group of Wizards that has been imprisoned by the Queen. If we can liberate them, they will almost certainly follow us. Then we can defeat the Queen and the Castle will belong to the practitioners of **magyk **, as it always should have. There are enough of them to support us and I have been watching the village long enough to see that some of the most talented Wizards ended up there for some reason. Whatever they say verbally, those people would like to have their freedom and they will support us as long as we are willing to give them a chance at freedom. That is all people really want in this world. I shall even allow the Wizards from Marcia Overstrand's camp to return to the Castle peacefully once we have taken it from the Queen as long as Marcia yields her position to me. She might even be useful in rebuilding the Tower."

Merrin found the courage to speak. He felt moved by Clarissa's ideas and found them to be logical, sensible. "Her apprentice has ventured to the House of Foryx where-"

"Hotep-Ra resides." Clarissa finished for him in a low voice, "Yes, I know. Eric used to go on about it all of the time."

"Eric?"

A slow smile spread over Clarissa lips which she made no effort to conceal. "Yes, Eric. You knew him once too, Meredith, but you would have called him by his last name, as almost everyone did. By nearly everyone he was called DomDaniel."

Merrin felt as though a powerful wave had crashed into his chest at full speed. DomDaniel? _DomDaniel? _Clarissa had been involved with DomDaniel? For the first time, Merrin no longer felt safe. "I..I...I didn't. I mean..I…" Merrin was stammering in a reedy tone and he half expected to hear DomDaniel's voice rise from out of the darkness and tell him to "Stop stammering, boy!"

Clarissa could see the fear in his eyes. "It is all right, dear." She said soothingly, "Eric would be proud of you now. You engendered a **Darke Domaine **all on your own. You have accomplished so much. I am proud to be working alongside you."

In spite of himself, Merrin blushed. Maybe Clarissa was right. Maybe he did have skills that even he himself did not understand. Was it possible? "What I want to do after we move on Wothering is attain the support of the alchemist, Marcellus Pye. Few understand the **darke **arts as well as alchemists do and we need individuals in our clan who have a true and deep understanding of the **darke ** so that they can teach others about it. Only those who practice **darke magyk **can achieve true power, Meredith."

Merrin nodded, recalling how Marcia Overstrand's powers had failed her in the midst of the **darke domaine **. **Darke **was the true power and he, Merrin, had been practicing it his whole life. He felt a bit smug. Soon, they would all regret calling him stupid. He had a sudden memory of an afternoon he had spent with Rose in which he had told her of the miseries that **darke magyk** had brought into his life but he quickly brushed the memory aside. This would be his life now and he was already starting to feel that sense of freedom that Clarissa had just insisted all people crave. He smiled. "I agree with you entirely but don't forget that the alchemist has supported the Queen before. How can we be sure that he will not do so again?"

Clarissa laughed and Merrin found that he liked the sound. "Easily, my sweet. Alchemists always support whomever gives them the most benefits and I am willing to play his game." She kissed Merrin on his temple, as though to reassure him, and Merrin had never felt so exhilarated in all his life. He was free!

xxx

Unbeknownst to Jenna, the Wizards and their Wendron companions were making plans to attack the Castle that very night. The wedding of Septimus and Rose was to occur at six in the evening and the attack on the Castle would occur that very night after midnight. Marcia had initially objected to the idea of Septimus and Rose's marriage but Septimus had argued with her, insisting that it was the best thing for their alliance with the Witches. It was a way of securing it. Marcia had to acknowledge that Septimus was correct in principle, even if she knew that Witches did not always keep their promises. Septimus had made up his mind to go through with the marriage and Marcia was helpless to stop him. He was, after all, a grown man now and Rose had not objected to the match, though Marcia rather suspected that that was due to her newfound apathy about life. She hadn't objected to much at all since Merrin had abandoned the camp. Marcia found it a bit disgusting. She had hardly crumbled when Milo had betrayed her. She could find nothing to relate to in Rose's grief. Marcia was a bit apprehensive about the evening, but not because of Septimus's marriage. She did worry that the pleasures of marriage would draw him away from the task at hand but she had to admit that the marriage was the only way to finalize their pact with the Wendron Witches and that pact needed to be complete before they marched into the Castle. Marcia felt more than a bit nervous about all of it. It was, after all, highly risky. This afternoon before the wedding had been a busy one for the Wizards. Septimus had spent much of it journeying to the House of Foryx to obtain Hotep-Ra, only to discover upon arriving there that Hotep-Ra was gone. Septimus did not doubt that Hotep-Ra occasionally traveled but he found he was somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of returning to the Castle without the great Wizard's assistance. He knew that they wouldn't actually need Hotep-Ra until they had successfully retaken the city and were ready to rebuild the Tower but he felt uneasy nonetheless. With the support of Hotep-Ra, there was no way on earth the Wizards could have lost the battle. Now, he was no longer sure.

Thus, when the hour of the wedding at last arrived, Septimus was more weary than blissful. His body ached with exhaustion and he felt utterly discouraged. Some of his sadness abated when the ceremony had at last begun and he caught sight of his beloved Rose standing at the end of the makeshift aisle that had been created for her out of someone's old rug. She looked nothing short of beautiful. Septimus did not know Rose quite well enough to realize that her smile wasn't genuine and that her eyes sparkled with tears rather than joy. Syrah knew, though, and with every step Rose took toward Septimus, Syrah felt pain sear through her chest. Her dear friend was marrying someone she didn't love for the sake of an alliance. It was almost unfathomable to her. Syrah had helped Rose dress and prepare for the wedding but she had done it in a robotic fashion. There had been no excitement or emotion involved. She had helped dress Rose-as much as Rose had needed help anyway-and had assisted in applying her makeup in order to make certain that it brought out her bright green eyes, a reminder that, regardless of her heritage, she would always be a Wizard first.

The ceremony and the events which followed it were complete opposites. While the ceremony itself had been simple, the reception was elaborate. Many of the Wizards stayed up and had a grand time, socializing and making one another laugh. Eventually, the bride and groom exited in order to enjoy their wedding night and yet the activities of the evening went on. After all, the Wizards were not certain who would survive the inevitable fight, even if they were planning to take Queen Jenna by surprise, and they wanted to enjoy the few hours they had left with one another. No one was willing to waste that precious time sleeping.

At last the hour of midnight arrived. Marcia had kept to herself for the last few hours, going over the plans that she and Septimus had created during the days leading up to this night. She sighed. It would soon all be over, one way or another. She smiled grimly to herself. If she lost her life this evening, she would be proud to lose it. She was finally becoming the type of leader she had always aspired to be and she felt a sense of accomplishment regarding that.

Just after midnight, the majority of the Wizards and their newly acquired Wendron allies were standing in single file lines, just as Marcia had instructed. "Now remember," Marcia began as she made her way to the front of the crowd. "You are to **transport** yourselves directly to the Palace gates. From there, we shall commence our attack on the Palace guards. Our goal is to overwhelm them entirely as quickly as possible. Is that clear?"

There were nods and murmurs of ascent. Everyone was nervous about the task ahead. When Septimus emerged from his tent, everyone knew that it was time. There could be no looking back now. Septimus was in bright spirits after the events of the evening and the aura about him betrayed his confidence regarding the Wizards' ability to overcome their adversaries. Septimus's breezy confidence soon spread throughout the ranks and the Wizards' found themselves carrying out their **transports** enthusiastically until at last there was an enormous group of Wizards lined up outside of the Palace, poised and ready to strike.

Once Marcia was positive that all of the Wizards and their allies had congregated outside of the Palace walls, she gave the signal to launch an assault on the Palace guards, most of whom were stationed just outside the walls. After encouraging the Wizards to use spells of invisibility, Marcia led her invisible army of followers straight to the Palace gates where, one by one, they began to fire **thunderflashes** at Jenna's ranks.

The **thunderflashes** exploded with the force of bombs. The Palace guards were completely overwhelmed and, as they were unable to see their attackers, they were lost, running aimlessly and blindly from enemies they could not fight. Marcia grimaced. This style of attack had always been last resort in her mind. She had always felt that the only fair fight was one in which both sides had an equal shot of winning and as a result, she felt rather like the Wizards had cheated in order to achieve their goal. However, it didn't matter as much to her now as it might have once. The royal family had taken the Wizard Tower from her. If she had to take the Palace, then so be it.

The guards continued to crash to the ground and Marcia found herself trying to ignore their hideous screams as they fell. _This is all right,_ she told herself sternly, _This is acceptable. _ The more she said it to herself, the more she found that she believed it. This was, in its way, justice.

"Stop!" cried a strained feminine voice in a pitch so high that Marcia momentarily thought she had imagined the sound until she caught sight of a figure in red rushing down the Palace lawn, her long dark hair streaming out behind her. "In the name of mercy, stop!" The young Queen's eyes were filled with tears as she approached one of her guards lying on the ground, only to find that he was dead. "Marcia, please, stop. I surrender. I've had enough!" Jenna gasped and sobs began to wrack her entire body. "I've had enough!" she screamed like the child she truly was.

From within their **unseens**, Septimus exchanged glances with Marcia. Jenna's behavior was troubling, certainly, but she might be attempting to bait them. Perhaps she was trying to tempt Marcia to **appear** so that more guards could descend on her and finish her off. Septimus, however, seemed less inclined to believe that his sister was up to any treachery at all and, as he watched her collapse to the ground in tears, he rushed forward, dropping his **unseen **altogether and taking her into his arms.

Jenna's shock was apparent. "Sep!" she did her best to wipe the tears from her violet eyes as she took in the sight of her handsome adoptive brother. "Oh Sep, you came back."

Septimus clutched her close to him, "That's right, Jen, I'm back and you're back too, I see. You're Jen again and that's all that counts. You're Jen." Jenna sobbed uncontrollably into Septimus's shoulder, just as she had sobbed into Milo's not two days before and, as the Wizards looked on in disbelief, they all slowly began to lose their spells of invisibility, one by one, they thawed in front of the squalling Queen. Septimus kissed the top of her head and called out, "Yield, Marcia! Let's end this misery now."

Marcia did not need to be told twice. She could see clearly that Jenna no longer meant the Wizards any harm. _Cerys is no longer with her_, Marcia mused to herself. She wasn't as happy about that as Septimus appeared to be. If Cerys was no longer using Jenna to carry out treachery, she would find another, perhaps more efficient way of doing so. For the moment though, Marcia approached Jenna but stopped in her tracks when she saw that Milo Banda was approaching his daughter as well, but from the opposite direction. When he saw Marcia, he froze, unsure of his next action.

"I take it that you and your followers surrender? Do you swear it?" Marcia's tone was business like and Jenna had to breathe deeply in order to keep more tears from spilling from her eyes in response.

"Yes, Marcia. I…I'm so sorry. I don't know what I..I…I don't even know what happened…I…"

"I do." Marcia retorted simply, "Your imbecilic mother happened." There were gasps and general murmurs throughout the crowd. Jenna's eyes widened at the accuracy of Marcia's comment and she cast her eyes at the ground. "I'm not as foolish as you think, Jenna. I don't truly blame you for much of what has occurred. In retrospect, I suspect that she was affecting Marcellus also. I don't really think that either of you would have destroyed something as precious as the Tower. You may have been angry, but you would never have done that. There is something sinister here."

"I have to agree." Milo Banda finally caught up with the crowd, a little puffed. "I have just encountered Cerys, Marcia. There is no time to lose. She has taken some poor Wizard's body, I can't bear to think how. I couldn't help but wonder if it was..well, what you told me about a few months ago, how dark souls can possess the corpses of practitioners of **darke magyk**. She isn't herself anymore, Marcia. She's different. She was going on about how she has a right to the Throne and that anyone who stands in her way will suffer consequences. You know as well as I do that only Jenna has a right to the Throne now."

"Indeed. This is quite bad. Thank you for informing me. We'll just have to get Cerys then and everything will be fine. Perhaps by then, Hotep-Ra will have returned to the House of Foryx and he will help me to rebuild the Tower just as it was."

"That all seems a bit too optimistic now, Marcia." Milo said, unable to hide his amusement.

"Things do have a habit of working out, Milo. They always have before. If you don't think I can handle Cerys, you have another thing coming." Marcia turned her attention to Jenna. Septimus let go of his sister and pulled away from her, allowing Marcia to speak to her alone.

Sitting this close to Marcia made Jenna's shame so great that she could not bear to even look Marcia in the eyes. She had had innocent people killed for her mother, Queen Cerys, and she had destroyed Marcia's way of life in order to elevate the royal family's status in the Castle. She had agreed to all the instructions Cerys had given her without question. She was not worthy of even looking at Marcia for those reasons.

But Marcia made her look. She placed a hand under Jenna's chin and brought the young Queen's red eyes up to meet her own. "Jenna, dear, its all right. I know what happened. I don't blame you, understand? You were manipulated."

"You were wrong." Jenna said flatly, in an effort to make her tone void of all emotions. "You said that I'd make a great Queen. I've done a wretched job." Jenna's voice cracked, "I'm the worst Queen the Castle has ever had. Whatever you and Milo were saying about my mother, it isn't her fault. I made the decisions. She gave me the knife and told me to…to kill you and she convinced me that it was right." Jenna was gasping for breath once again, her emotions returning in a flood of tears, "I just listened and then, after a while, I felt as though I could do nothing but listen. Oh Marcia…" Jenna's voice trailed off, "I'm the worst Queen the Castle has ever had!"

Marcia's voice took on a soothing tone that Jenna might have, under other circumstances, found irritating but at the moment, she welcomed it. "Jenna, becoming a dignitary at such a young age is quite difficult and there are many challenges. I had my share of struggles as well and I was ten years your senior when I assumed my post as ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Believe me when I say that your mother _did _possess you and she controlled you as though your body and mind were hers. I understand how this sort of ghastly **magyk** works. I was not incorrect. You will make a wonderful Queen. I am certain of it. I do not retract my words and together, we shall rebuild the Castle. Let us end this petty rivalry. The Castle needs **magyk **and the royal family in order to prosper."

Marcia surprised Jenna by reaching for her hand and squeezing it tightly. Jenna felt more guilt rise within her but she did her best to shove it to the side. Blinking back tears for the umpteenth time that day, Jenna wordlessly pointed to her slippers which she had been wearing when she had run so swiftly from the Palace in order to stop the Wizards' attack. She had never thought she would be relieved after a surprise attack from Marcia and her supporters but she was finding that to be the case. For the first time in months, she felt like herself again.

Marcia focused her gaze on the place to which Jenna was pointing and she noticed that, inside Jenna's slippers, the young Queen was wearing the purple socks that Marcia had **made** for her more than five years prior. Marcia felt her something catch in her throat and her eyes watered slightly. For quite some time, Marcia had believed that Jenna had disapproved of her, disliked her even and she had always hoped that that was not the case. These socks that she had created for her on the day that they had met seemed to be saying louder than words ever could, "I still care about you, Marcia, I've always admired you" and it melted Marcia's heart to see them. Almost involuntarily, Marcia pulled Jenna closer to her chest, as if to shield the girl from the pain she had endured during the past few months. Milo looked on, an expression of pure joy on his face. The two women he loved more than anything in the world were expressing their affection for one another and he could think of nothing at that moment that would be more wonderful than that. Septimus too savored the moment, wishing that Silas, Sarah, and Nicko had not had to remain at the camp. They would have very much enjoyed seeing their daughter behaving like herself again. But what had Marcia meant when she said referred to Cerys as sinister? Could Cerys really still be alive? Septimus felt certain that Marcia had never discussed the **darke **art to which she had referred in her conversation with Milo with him. Not one of his lessons had ever mentioned it. Unfortunately, before Septimus had time to contemplate the situation further, there was a scream and a young Wendron came crashing to ground. This came as a complete shock to Morwenna Mould, who had become increasingly disappointed with the manner in which the events of the night were unfolding. They had been meant to defeat the Queen, not comfort her in her sadness. Morwenna sighed. She would never understand the fickle Wizards but perhaps it wasn't all bad. After all, if Queen Jenna came to trust her, it would only make it easier to steal her baby Princess once she gave birth to one. Any coven with a Princess would become the most powerful of the covens and Morwenna was still determined to bring the Wendron Witches to a place of ultimate power.

The falling of the young Wendron caught everyone's attention and they looked up in time to see what the majority of the Wizards took to be Demelza, the young Wizard woman who had died in a recent battle. Only Milo knew who she really was and he felt very afraid. For Cerys was flanked by the members of the Port Witch Coven and the Witch standing nearest to her was an extremely pregnant and incredibly smug Marissa. Her long scarlet hair was falling past her creamy shoulders in waves and her bright blue eyes danced. She was impossibly beautiful. Marcia shivered, thankful that Beetle too had remained at camp. Marcia knew that only one thing could explain how Marissa had become so pregnant, so quickly. It did not bode well.

Just as Marcia was preparing a **thunderflash **to hurtle at Marissa, Septimus, who had been standing near her, fell to the ground under the power of another **thunderflash**, just as the young Witch had before him. "Septimus!" Marcia screamed, entirely forgetting her composure and throwing herself to the ground beside her apprentice. "Oh Septimus, Septimus! Get up, you must get up!" But Septimus did not move. He remained motionless in his mentor's arms. A fury unlike any Marcia had ever known began to rise within her but before she could act on it, she found herself looking into the eyes of the man who had attacked Septimus. Marcia was utterly unable to conceal her surprise at his identity. Materializing out of the mist and taking his place beside Cerys was Hotep-Ra.

**Why is Hotep-Ra with Cerys? :) Something for you to think about for the next week or so. Thanks again for reading! **


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait guys. For those of you who haven't read my fanfiction, A Heart of Stone, I will be reuploading it and making a few changes in the coming weeks. Check it out if you feel like you can handle more Camilla Richard. If not, that's okay too. I've been so busy getting ready for school. I really hope that you enjoy this chapter. More is going to happen in chapter ten but I had to set things up in this one. I can't wait to see what you think. A Snorri fan asked me when she would be in this story and I want to say that she is coming in in the very next chapter (chapter ten)! So get ready. :) thanks for reading. You're all amazing. Your reviews really pick me up.

Chapter Nine

Syrah had been watching the proceedings with disbelief. Marcia had simply forgiven the Queen for her wrongdoings and then she had proceeded to get on the ground and hug the girl to her chest. Syrah had never seen a more disgusting display in her entire life. Now, however, the day was going from extremely bad to worse. Hotep-Ra had apparently sided with a young woman who very much resembled Demelza, one of the Wizards in the Tower, except that there was something definitely different about her though Syrah couldn't quite say what. The sight of Marissa, already so pregnant and sneering so horribly, caused her stomach to churn. What was going on? With Hotep-Ra opposing them, they would almost certainly lose everything.

Marcia seemed oblivious to everything but the health of Septimus. Ignoring the presence of Hotep-Ra and indeed everyone else, she breathed a small **revive **over her apprentice. Very briefly, his eyes fluttered and Marcia was able to determine that he was alive after all. A sigh of relief unlike any she had ever known escaped her and she suddenly felt ready to face any danger, even one that Hotep-Ra might pose. "Hotep-Ra," Marcia started, "What on earth is the meaning of this?"

Hotep-Ra's expression did not change. "The Queen has explained it all to me. Queen Cerys is alive now, as you can see. **Darke magyk** is not always a negative thing, Marcia, my dear. It has permitted the rightful Queen, stolen from life far too soon, to resume her previous position. As long as she is alive, she is, in my eyes, the true Queen and I will always answer only to the true Queen. Marcia, the Queen is right. Wizards were originally intended to answer to the Queen and to support her at all costs, not oppose her entirely as you have done over the last few years. ExtraOrdinary Wizards have become continuously corrupt over the last few centuries, focusing more and more on achieving power for themselves and less and less on serving the Queen, which is the duty of any Castle citizen. I do not want any violence or bloodshed today. I have not killed your apprentice as you no doubt can see but I have subdued him. He is indeed a powerful Wizard and I could not afford to allow him to lose control. I am going to give you an option and I want you to consider it carefully. I plan to return here and restore the Wizard Tower. It will take some time but I will do it properly and, once I have done so, I shall be the ExtraOrdinary Wizard myself and install only Wizards who have true respect for the crown in the Tower as my supporters. You, Marcia, could be one of those supporters. I think you abilities are worthy. They would be far better if you did not possess such a fear of the **darke** but all the same, they are nothing to belittle. Besides, I intend to invite the Port Witches into the city. They have a very unique knowledge of the **darke**, a knowledge of information that has long since been forgotten in the Castle and I think we will benefit very much from their presence. I will not discriminate against any Wizard who is willing to pay true homage to the crown. It is never too late to change your ways. All of you can pay your respects to Queen Cerys as she has assumed the body of a young Wizard and is now alive once more. If you refuse to do this, however, there will be no place for you in this city. What do you say, Marcia? Will you condemn your people to die or will you accept Cerys as your Queen? It is not difficult. You're a _smart_ girl, dearheart. You know how to play."

Jenna glanced at Marcia in a mixture of disbelief and dismay. How had Cerys managed to reach the House of Foryx and obtain Hotep-Ra so quickly? How had she even know to look for him there? Was she _really_ trying to take the Throne from her own daughter? Jenna shook herself. She knew what she had to say, "Marcia, I've done the Wizards enough harm under the influence of my mother. Don't put them in a situation to be hurt even more. You've got to protect them, no matter the cost."

Marcia looked at Jenna in surprise. She sounded level headed, a true leader. She risked her a small, sad smile and shook her head. Without Marcia having to say a word, Jenna understood. If Marcia simply agreed to Hotep-Ra's commands, she would lose the respect of the Wizards and they would lose their place in society. They would be utterly oppressed by the monarchy. Jenna realized that Marcia was also fighting for Jenna, in spite of all that she had done. The very thought made Jenna feel ill. She didn't deserve that devotion from anyone, let alone Marcia and yet, here the woman was, trying to defend her position as Queen because she believed that she would be better than Cerys. It was unbelievable.

Marcia stole a quick glance at Septimus and concluded that, unfortunately, he wasn't going to wake in time for what she was planning. Faster than a bolt of lightening, she made a motion to a group of Senior Wizards and they understood her. They were going to attack.

Just as they had assaulted the Palace Guards just moments before, the Wizards all began to launch **thunderflashes ** and other considerably dangerous spells at Hotep-Ra, Cerys, and the Witches. At first, Marcia was pleased with the results. The Wizards were all acting very quickly and, though it was difficult to see through all the flashing lights, Marcia could only assume that Cerys and her companions were completely overwhelmed. Unfortunately, she was incorrect in this assumption.

It didn't happen immediately but one by one, the Wizards began to fall without warning. At first, Marcia could not at all determine why this was occurring. Hotep-Ra and the Witches did not appear to be using any form of **magyk** against them at all. She had not yet used any herself but she had been waiting for the proper moment to strike. Just as she was about to hurl a **thunderflash** at Queen Cerys, she realized what was happened and, with a feeling of dread within her breast, she called out, "Stop! Everyone stop!" but the Wizards, lost in their fury, did not head her warning and carried on as they had been. Marcia knew perfectly well what was happening. Hoptep-Ra had used a **darke **trick that caused the Wizards' spells to rebound on them rather than harming Hotep-Ra and his companions. Any time a Wizard fired a **thunderflash**, it hit him rather than his target. Hotep-Ra had not lied. The Wizards were dying right in front of her and Marcia could do nothing to prevent it from happening. They weren't even listening to her. Dismay filled her as she recognized that, if she tried to harm Hotep-Ra, her own spell would rebound on her and she would be her own undoing. Marcia tried again, "Listen to me! You must stop this at once! For goodness sake, he is _killing_ us." Marcia's voice broke on the last word as she realized that it was true. She had always been told that Hotep-Ra had practiced some **darke magyk** but she had never believed the rumors that he had been a truly **darke** Wizard. Now, however, she was starting to wonder. A feeling of miserable failure invaded her. Once again, she had led the Wizards intoa dreadful situation from which some of them would never emerge. She shuddered and her eyes filled with tears which, try as she might, she was unsuccessful in brushing away.

Slowly, the Wizards began to realize that things were not going according to plan and they ceased their passionate attack. As they started to see what had happened, many were struck both with shock and immense grief at the sight of their fellows lying about their feet on the ground below. The distraught Wizards turned to their leader for guidance but Marcia's expression was desolate and they quickly lost hope. "Why are you doing this?" Marcia demanded, making a final, futile effort to reason with Hotep-Ra. "Jenna has had her coronation and, when she did so, Cerys was not alive. Surely Jenna is now our Queen."

Hotep-Ra smiled grimly. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Marcia. Now, you have seen what I am capable of. Will you submit or condemn all the Wizards to death?"

Marcia gulped, utterly dreading the words that she was going to have to say but knowing that she had no choice in the matter. "I..I surrender"

Hotep-Ra and Cerys smiled in unison. "Perfect." Hotep-Ra began but Marcia cut him off.

"I surrender on the condition that you will protect the Wizards and that you will allow my apprentice, Septimus Heap, to continue his studies in **magyk ** and succeed you as ExtraOrdinary Wizard."

Hotep-Ra nodded. "I think I can afford for that. He is a very bright boy and he will no doubt have much to contribute to society." He ignored the horrified look on Cerys's face and continued speaking. "Queen Cerys will resume her position in the Palace and her daughter Jenna will, in turn, resume the title of Princess until her mother's true death. The Queen's consort will have his wife back once again and will live at her side."

In spite of all that was logical, Marcia felt her heart sink low into her chest. Cerys was getting Milo back too? Marcia had to remind herself sternly that Milo had never had interest in her, not in the way she had had interest in him anyway. It was doubtlessly time to move on.

"I will rebuild the Tower," Hotep-Ra went on, "and you, Marcia, will be my wife."

In spite of herself, Marcia gasped. "ExtraOrdinary Wizards need not marry. In fact, it isn't encouraged-"

Hotep-Ra rolled his eyes. "Don't patronize me, Marcia, I know the rules perfectly well. I am altering them. I think that, as there is a royal family, there ought to be a family of Wizards whose sole purpose is advising the Queen. We shall be the greatest nobles in the Castle."

Marcia stared at Hotep-Ra in disbelief. She had to suppress the urge to begin laughing at the absurdity of his idea. "You mean, you want me to marry you and have children with you? Are you mad? You do understand, surely, that I am nearly forty years old. The odds of me..well…conceiving a child are very low, let alone giving birth to one. If this plan of yours were to work, you would need someone much younger."

Hotep-Ra shook his head, as if Marcia were being ridiculous. "You are still just young enough to conceive and bear children and you are the most powerful Wizard, which will give us the strongest bloodline. Our children would be unstoppable." Hotep-Ra approached Marcia and reached out to touch her, running his hands over her hips before she even had time to pull herself away. "You have childbearing hips, my dear. Your _curves_ are a mark of fertility. You will not only have a child, you will have a son." Marcia, who had never been much of an actress, was incapable of preventing a look of pure horror from crossing her features. Milo, who had been unable to take his eyes from her since she had launched the attack, had been watching this turn of events with a deep, pit in his stomach. Now, that empty pit was beginning to fill to the brim with an emotion that could be nothing other than jealousy. Milo watched Hotep-Ra put his hands on Marcia's body and his fury nearly overwhelmed him. Marcia was the most charming woman in the world in Milo's opinion and she was meant to be his and his alone. He opened and closed his fists in incredible frustration and Jenna, who could read his physical movements by now, understood his angst in one glance. Tentatively, Jenna stretched out a hand to touch her father's arm and smiled sympathetically. One glance at Jenna calmed his nerves slightly and he tried to look at the situation logically.

Marcia was still disagreeing with Hotep-Ra. "I don't think I'm your best option. There are quite a few talented Wizards. Surely you will find someone who is willing to marry you and might even be excited at the prospect. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

Hotep-Ra laughed. "Child! Don't presume that I don't know what I want. I know what the Castle _needs_."

"The Castle needs me." A defiant voice cut into the conversation and everyone else fell silent as they saw who it was that had just spoken for the first time. Queen Cerys smiled, a rather unsettling, oily smile and Marcia felt her stomach lurch. Something told her that this wasn't going to bed good. She was right.

"Most of you remember a time during which I was your Queen. Was there violence then? Did I not respect the Wizards as people? I shall teach my daughter to do the same and I will allow you to live your lives as you please as long as you pay the respect that is due to me. That is all that I ask. It shall be the Castle that you all know and love once again. I will take care of you. Marcia here says that I have influenced Jenna to behave in the way that she has but all of you know me better than that, don't you? If I were so very violent, would I not have exhibited some of those tendencies as Queen?"

There was a general murmuring throughout the crowd. Some seemed to agree with Cerys while others felt uncomfortable due to the fact that Marcia, whom they believed was logical, seemed to believe that Cerys had caused these recent tragedies to befall the Castle. What was more, Cerys was now practicing **darke magyk** and necromancy in the form of inhabiting another's body as her own. Overall, the Wizards found that they were still wary but they realized that there was no use in saying so. They had lost. One Wizard girl, who was no more than seven and had always longed to be a Wizard, gave a cry of despair, which her mother tried, to no avail, to silence. "Madam Marcia!" she cried, "Stop them. I don't like this. I just want to go home." Her eyes filled with tears and Marcia turned her attention from Hotep-Ra to the little girl. She desperately wished that there was something, anything, that she could have said to comfort this child but she knew that all the reassurances in the world would be lies. The entire Castle was going to change now. She had failed the Wizards and there was nothing more to be done for it.

"I know that you would exhibit violent tendencies," another unfamiliar voice made itself known from the other side of the clearing in Wizard Way that led to the Palace. To the amazement of all the Wizards, Marcellus Pye emerged and approached Hotep-Ra and Queen Cerys at a rapid rate. "Good people of the Castle," he began, "You now know that I, as your Castle Alchemist, never intended to do you any harm, even during the Time of the Great Alchemie Disaster. Now, I need you, against all odds to trust me again. I know what it means to be possessed." Marcellus's deep brown eyes took on a haunted look. "And I know that a few of you here are aware of what it is like as well." Marcellus gave Syrah a meaningful look. "I know as well as I know my name that my mind was possessed by another presence the night that I permitted Queen Jenna to take the Drummins from the Fyre Chamber to the Wizard Tower so that they could light a **darke **fyre. I could not find my own thoughts, only the thoughts of another. Someone was **inhabiting** my mind and I know feel certain that it was Queen Cerys here. Her presence feels familiar to me now that I am standing near to her. Truly, people who succeed in **inhabiting ** bodies as she has done have often **inhabited **the minds of others prior to taking someone's body. It is, as I understand it, good practice and Queen Cerys must be quite good as she manipulated both our young monarch and me."

There was, once more, much chatter among the Wizards in the crowd. Marcia, against her better judgment, had to admit that Marcellus's explanation did make sense. These types of possessions had occurred before and this was certainly what had happened to Jenna. Marcia felt her heart warm slightly at the thought that Marcellus, whom she had so recently come to trust and who had saved her life following the night Queen Cerys had used Jenna to attack her with the knife, had not intentionally betrayed the Tower, whatever his feelings for her might have been.

Meanwhile, Syrah and Milo were also pondering Marcellus's words carefully. Syrah was listening merely because Marcellus did have the haunted look about him which so many people-Syrah include-associated with possession. She still recalled vividly the first time that Rose had shown her a mirror after she had awoken and she had seen that haunted look for herself. She shivered and her pity for Marcellus grew to such an extent that she felt a need to defend him before Marcia. "He is not lying." She said suddenly, "I can see it in his eyes." Marcia nodded and Syrah knew at once that her comment had been unnecessary. Marcia had already believed him. Marcellus too noticed this and a bit of light began to return to his eyes.

Milo, meanwhile, was considering Marcellus because he realized that he too had felt the sensations the alchemist had described once before. He vaguely remembered a night during which he had been out, shortly after he had seen Marissa Lane perform for the first time with Beetle. He remembered that the young Witch had coaxed him into an alleyway but, once there, he had felt unable to move, as though she had had power over him and some portion of his mind. At the time, he had blamed it on alcohol but now, with Marissa standing mere feet from him, Milo was beginning to wonder if it might have been something more sinister after all. When Beetle had approached, Marissa had accused Milo of trying to take advantage of her, even though she had been the one leading him into the alleyway, the one trying to seduce him. He had been touching her, yes, but he had been unable to think clearly or dictate his own actions at all. Now, Marcia would probably loathe him forever for something he had not even intended to do. He groaned to himself. Had Cerys had something to do with the fact that he had felt unable to control his actions that night? Was that possible? Milo had never objected to passing time with a number of women but he had never in his life set out to take advantage of any of them. Why had Cerys made him behave in such a way? Had Marissa Lane been in league with her all along? Could Cerys really have been so jealous that she was that desperate to break him and Marcia apart. They had been happy. Why couldn't Cerys just have left it at that? Why had she been so determined to blame others for her actions and to manipulate the entire Castle? And why had he, Milo, forbid himself from ever seeing what sort of person she had been while she had been living in the first place?

Hotep-Ra's expression darkened. "Marcellus Pye, I would have expected more from you. You know that your Queen would never have any interest in-"

"Queens have done this and worse before." Marcellus protested, referring, no doubt, to his mother, Queen Etheldredda. "I know that better than anyone."

Jenna was smiling in spite of the situation. Marcellus's words had made her feel less alone. She was beginning to believe the story that the ghost of a Queen held a certain kind of power over the living members of her family. Marcellus was, after all, as much a member of the royal family as she was. Without knowing her father's thoughts, Jenna silently wondered if Cerys had affected Milo adversely as well, as that too was possible. She could not permit herself to smile for long, however. Matters were worsening by the second.

Hotep-Ra rolled his eyes, "If you will not respect the rightful Queen, then I will have no choice but to remove you from your position of Castle Alchemist and place someone else in that position instead."

Marcellus scoffed. "You are no longer ExtraOrdinary Wizard. It is not within your jurisdiction to decide who becomes Castle Alchemist."

Hotep-Ra grinned and for a moment, even Marcellus felt afraid. "That is where you are wrong. I have returned to regain my position. The Wizards were installed here with one purpose years ago and that is to respect the Queens. I shall return the Wizards to that respect. I will rebuild the Tower and then I shall marry Marcia here and she will bear me a son. Our family will be nobility among the Wizards and we shall serve as advisors to the young Queens and Princesses, as was our duty long ago."

Marcellus was as horrified as the idea of Marcia bearing Hotep-Ra's children as Milo had been. "But that's unnecessary. ExtraOrdinary Wizards have seldom married throughout history. There is no need for it." Marcellus could feel that he was floundering. He had watched Marcia and the Wizards lose their battle from a distance and now that he had come, he feared that he was only making things even worse than they had been before. "Besides, Marcia, beautiful though she is, is not an ideal wife if you intend to have children. It will be much easier for a younger woman to conceive. This plan you have concocted is nothing short of ridiculous. You have many Witches here with you, the Port coven, I take it. Why not take one of them as a bride instead?"

"They would be unsatisfactory. I do wish to give the Witches the place in that Castle that they deserve as their **magyk ** is as useful as any other but I must take an extremely powerful Wizard as my wife in order to ensure that our children will have considerably **magykal** capabilities. Marcia Overstrand is the most talented woman here and I will settle for nothing else."

"The odds of you having children at not high." Marcellus warned. "Please consider your actions. Marcia has been a very good ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Perhaps you should leave her to her duties."

Hoptep-Ra was disgusted. "I will not take orders from the likes of you." He snapped his fingers in the direction of one of the Witches and said, "Take him away. I don't want to see him again."

"I want to do that!" whined Marissa, "I want to take him away."

Hotep-Ra shook his head. "Not in your condition. That child is extremely important. You know that as well as anyone. Do not risk its health for the sake of foolishness."

"If you'd call it a child." Marissa murmured darkly.

"No!" Cerys said suddenly, "No, don't take him away. Take him to the Palace and lock him in the sitting room. I will want a private audience with him later."

Hotep-Ra bristled slightly at Cerys's order but he did not argue. She was the Queen after all. As two of the Port Witches came forward and grasped Marcellus by the arms, he looked up, made eye contact with Marcia and mouthed desperately, "Forgive me."

Marcia, who was a good lip reader, nodded sympathetically and mouthed back, "All done." Marcellus allowed himself a grim smile and a bit of relief. Whatever became of him now, he could go to his grave knowing that brilliant, wonderful Marcia had forgiven him and understood.

The Wizards were then led to various homes where they would stay during the time it took to rebuild the Tower. With Hotep-Ra's **magykal** ability, it was expected that, while the process would not take long, one and a half to two years would be necessary to finish the project. Although the Wizards and their Wendron allies were far greater in number than Hotep-Ra, Queen Cerys, and the Port Witches, the fact that Hotep-Ra was using the rebounding spell that only he knew gave them the advantage. Any Wizard who hurled a dangerous spell in the direction of Hotep-Ra or his followers died. There was no use in any of it. The homes to which the Wizards were relocated were in Wothering. The already overcrowded village was now the home of the entire Wizard population. Hotep-Ra had disliked this idea initially but Cerys had insisted that this was the best place for the Wizards and Hotep-Ra felt that the Queen must know best.

xxx

Inside one of the homes in Wothering, Rose was staring out of the window, attempting to conceal her loneliness but not very successfully. Septimus, her new husband, was a mere few feet from her but he had not spoken to her in hours. They had just brought the remaining Wizards from Marcia's camp outside of the Port to Wothering and now, all the families were cramped together, praying for some kind of miracle. Jenna had chosen to release Simon, her brother, from his upcoming punishment because she now felt it was wrong to punish him for admiring his heritage as a Wizard. She thought regretfully that the fact that she had released him would probably have no meaning whatsoever now. Her mother was Queen once again and she would do with the individual Wizards whatever she pleased. Milo and Cerys had resumed their place in the master bedroom, doubtlessly the nicest room in the Palace, and Jenna felt certain that Milo had done this merely to keep the peace. She knew that, whatever he said, his heart was with Marcia now. Somehow, this didn't bother her as much as it would have once. Marcia, whatever could be said about her, still loved Jenna in spite of all that had happened and Jenna couldn't help but appreciate that. The thought of Marcia marrying Hotep-Ra was a vile one to her. Jenna could not understand why Hotep-Ra had changed so suddenly. He had seemed kind just months before.

Septimus was still healing from his injuries. Rose had not said anything to him other than to inform him of all that had occurred after he had lost consciousness. He was miserable over it. None of it sounded even remotely good. He was especially concerned for Marcia with her upcoming marriage to Hotep-Ra. He knew that she might go to extreme measures in order to ensure that the marriage would not occur. He also knew that Marcia would be in a very vulnerable state emotionally, as she had just lost her position to Hotep-Ra and she felt as though she had failed the Wizards in the worst possible way. Septimus felt desolate. He couldn't even be happy in the days following his marriage. It all seemed incredibly unfair to him. More than anything, he just wished things could return to the way that they had been before. He wanted to return to the days just after the Ring Wizards had been defeated, when Jenna had just been crowned Queen. He had always imagined himself marrying Rose in the Hall of the Wizard Tower rather than at a makeshift camp and, as he closed his eyes, he imagined himself there. Everyone had been so much happier. Now, Septimus and his entire family were at what essentially a prison campy for Wizards and he couldn't stand it any longer. He was going to have to do something, he was going to have to find a way out for the sake of himself and all that he loved.

Septimus's worst night in Wothering began with Hotep-Ra arrived one afternoon and announced to Septimus that he would be taking Marcia back into the Castle with him so that he could prepare her to be a good wife. He mentioned that he had to learn to exert some control over "that saucy minx." He also mentioned that the sooner the preparations began, the better. He intended to marry Marcia in the Hall of the Tower once it was entirely rebuilt but he said that he intended to attempt to have a child with Marcia some time before the Wedding. He realized, of course, that this defied tradition but, given Marcia's age, tradition was not really a factor anymore. He was determined to have a child with her and his odds were more and more fleeting with each day. Therefore, he took Marcia from their village and returned with her to the Castle in order to "break her in" which Septimus knew meant, "break her spirit." It made him sick. After Marcia's departure against her will, Septimus was crushed. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. Much like Marcia, he felt as though he had failed the Wizards and worse, he had failed Marcia herself.

xxx

Marcellus felt as though he had been in the Palace sitting room for days before Cerys finally arrived. He did not make an effort to regard her with anything but disdain as she arrived in the room and took a seat in front of him. "Hello Marcellus," she began smoothly, "I'm sorry about that little disturbance this morning but I assure you, I have no wish to harm you. Why would I want to harm anyone in my lovely family? Can I get you anything? Would you like some tea?"

Marcellus was beyond comfort. "You have already harmed your family, Cerys. You have harmed me and your own daughter."

Cerys's false sincerity slipped away faster than lightening. "How dare you address me in such a way? How dare you disrespect your Queen? If you continue this way, I shall have no _choice_ but to punish you and we wouldn't want that, would we?" Marcellus did not respond. Cerys smiled. "I didn't think so."

"I know what you want from me." Marcellus said abruptly. "And I cannot provide it for you. The tincture of eternal youth is long gone. It would take years to create another and even then, it might not be possible. If you are keeping me alive in order to receive that from me-and I expect that you are-you can forget about it entirely. Aside from that, I would die rather than help another Queen like my mother gain eternal power."

Queen Cerys was now no longer playing. "You will give me what I want, even if you must make it a new." As she spoke, Marcellus felt something hot burning into his arm. With every second, the sensation became more and more unbearable. As he looked down, he realized that Cerys using her newfound **darke ** capabilities in order to burn his arm without even touching him. Marcellus smelled the strong, unique scent of burning flesh and felt for a moment that he was going to be ill. He bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain but he was ultimately unsuccessful. Cerys smiled as he groaned and said, "Will you help me, Marcellus, or will you let me kill you now?"

Marcellus's answer surprised her. He thought of Septimus and Marcia and how much he had come to care for them. He recalled how he had thought of Marcia every day she had departed the Wizard Tower and how he had eventually come to the conclusion that the alliance between Alchemie and **magyk** that she had established had given him time to get to know her and thus he had fallen in love with her though it had taken him a while to admit that, even to himself. A life in which he had failed Marcia, Septimus, and his apprentice Simon, was just too much for him. He had lived a long time and would prefer death.

"You will give me what I want!" Cerys hissed as she drove her powers deeper into his skin. As she did so, Marcellus realized that, due to the fact that Cerys was still hopeful that he would allow her to drink from the tincture, she would not kill him now. She would continue to torture him instead. This thought was his last conscious one before he gave into the incessant pain. Mere moments later, screams could be heard throughout the Palace.

xxx

Unbeknownst to Milo, Marcia was staying very near to him in the Palace and she was allowed to roam it as she pleased. Hotep-Ra knew nothing of Marcia's previous affair with Milo and Cerys had been too ashamed to admit to the great Wizard that a man's love had driven her into such a state of jealousy. Marcia cynically wondered if Cerys was beginning to regret her decision to become mortal once again as mortals could not possess the minds of others in the same way that a ghost could. She was wandering the corridors one morning, replaying the horrible manner in which Hotep-Ra had spoken to her the previous night and wondering how long it would be before the physical abuse began when she encountered Milo Banda near the breakfast room. At the sight of Marcia, Milo nearly fell over. "Marcia!" he gasped, unable to disguise his confusion or his pleasure. "What…What are you doing here? I never..I mean, I know that Hotep-Ra is staying here but I didn't…Why didn't you tell me?"

Marcia shrugged. "I've not been here long, Milo. I didn't really intend to run into you, truth be told. It will only make matters worse."

Milo smiled at her and Marcia, in spite of herself, began to feel that all too familiar tingle in her belly as he looked at her. "How could finding the woman I love make matters worse? Marcia, you can't marry him." Milo was blurting out words before he could stop them from coming, "You can't marry a man like that. If you need be with anyone at all, it should be with someone who respects and admires you, not someone who wants to break you like a wild animal and then fill with his-"

"Milo, please! There is no need to be vulgar. You know all too well that I have no desire to be with Hotep-Ra any more than Marcellus desires to be tortured by _your_ wife every evening but what choice do we have? If I defy him, he'll kill Septimus, I know he will and right now he has agreed to allow Septimus to become ExtraOrdinary Wizard though I somehow doubt, if I do become pregnant, he will allow Septimus to have the position after all. I don't know why he thinks that marrying me will increase his chances of having a powerful child. Sometimes, two Wizards have children who can't perform **magyk** well at all."

"I don't think that's the only reason he wants you." Milo said softly, "Marcia, he thinks you're beautiful and charming, just as anyone would."

"I am not beautiful," Marcia snapped indignantly, "and I'm certainly not charming. I was hardly charming enough to keep you interested, was I?" With a look of horror, Marcia realized what she had said and made an effort to look away from Milo so that he might not see her blush. It was too late, however. Milo had seen that rosy hue rise into her cheeks and he felt that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Disregarding his nerves, Milo took Marcia's slender fingers in his and brought them to his lips.

"You are the only true lady I've ever loved, Marcia. I mean that from the bottom of my heart and my soul as well. I love _you_ more than I have ever loved anyone. I don't deserve you but I still want you just the same. I can't help myself. I just can't. I couldn't let anything else happen without telling you that."

"Milo…I.." Marcia cursed the emotion she felt rising in her throat. How did he still have the ability to move her emotionally, just like that? Sometimes, she didn't even entirely understand why she loved him and had always loved him.

"Shh.." Milo whispered and tentatively brushed his hand across Marcia's pale cheek. Sensing that it was all right, he leaned forward and, for the first time in what seemed an age to Milo, their lips met. As he kissed her, he allowed his hands to explore the curves of her body and recalled the way that Hotep-Ra had touched her, as though she were a cow at market. Anger invaded Milo's heart and he vowed to himself that Hotep-Ra would never have her. No matter what he had to do, he would ensure that Hotep-Ra never so much as touched Marcia again.

"What the devil is going on?" Milo looked up just in time to see Hotep-Ra stride into the breakfast room, a look of fury on his visage.

xxx

Back within Wothering, Septimus Heap was lying in his bed. Rose was still staring at the window and now had not spoken in days. She refused even to speak to Syrah and Septimus was unsure of how best to help it. He felt so miserable himself. The days were all the same. There was nothing to do in Wothering but fret and worry about loved ones. He worried incessantly about Marcia and Jenna and how they were faring. Septimus could only comfort himself with thoughts of Marcia. Images of Marcia telling him that, "It will all be all right, Septimus," were his only comfort. Just as he was drifting into a dreamless doze on this particular night, Rose spoke for the first time in days.

"Septimus," she nearly screamed, "Septimus, look!" Septimus did look. Standing in the doorway of their home was one of the most beautiful creatures Septimus had ever seen. It was a woman, tall, blonde and exquisite looking, like a porcelain doll from a Castle shop. Septimus sensed the presence of powerful **magyk ** about her and knew that he had no desire to get into a disagreement with her. To his relief however, she smiled, "Hello, Septimus Heap, do not be afraid. I am here to help you. Tonight, we shall put a stop to this madness, you and I. What do you say?"

Too stunned to even ask who the woman was, Septimius faltered. A silence filled the air which was soon filled by the sound of Rose crying out, "Merrin!" as Merrin Meredith walked into the room and took his place beside the beautiful Wizard. Septimus allowed himself a small smile. There was something about this woman that he liked immediately. Maybe things would not be as bad as he had thought. "I say yes." He managed, "As long as we go and get Marcia."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the huge wait of almost two weeks but school started and I had to move and things got nuts. This chapter, for all the wait, is kind of housekeeping but something really important happens at the end. Both the parts of about Snorri and Nicko and the part about Syrah foreshadow events to come…keep this in mind if they seem a bit misplaced now. This chapter is for Alyssa , who is definitely my main basis for the character of Rose in this though it did not seem that she would be at first and for Marissa for giving me the idea of what to do with Marissa in the first place….:)

Chapter Ten

Queen Cerys's distress at learning that her husband, Milo Banda, had been fraternizing with Marcia Overstrand seemed to ring throughout the Castle. The citizens pitied their new Queen and were supportive of her tearful speech in which she announced that Milo was to remain in the worst of the dungeons indefinitely. Some were surprised that the Queen had determined it best to keep him alive but they understood why. They did have a child together after all and Cerys no doubt loved him. Most of the Castle citizens considered it a miracle that Cerys had been returned to them and they didn't care how or why. The Wizards in Wothering were more than slightly concerned about her behavior but they could do nothing without their former power. Cerys, with the assistance of Hotep-Ra, was now at last the sole ruler of the Castle.

Hotep-Ra had set about rebuilding the Wizard Tower and was assuring Wizards spots within it as long as they swore their loyalty to him. Although this seemed a promising offer, many of the Wizards were still a bit wary of Hotep-Ra and were less inclined to believe his promises. Thus, they remained in Wothering. Hotep-Ra's fiancée, Marcia, was to marry the great Wizard in a month's time and, among the Wizards, this was hardly welcome news. So when a beautiful blonde maiden arrived on Septimus Heap's doorstep, he was willing to place his faith in her, no matter the cost. He did not even truly question the presence of Merrin Meredith as much as he once would have. They now needed as much help as they could receive and a knowledge of the **darke **might even be useful. After Jenna had released Simon from prison, the Wizards had gained an ally who had a very intense knowledge of all things **darke ** but Merrin would, perhaps, know even more having commenced the **darke domaine ** all on his own. Septimus was beginning to think that the only way to defeat Cerys and Hotep-Ra would be to fight the **darke **with **darke. **

The woman's name, Septimus discovered, was Clarissa Demarte. She was a wandering mage from the continent with a self described, "questionable history." It was apparent to Septimus that Merrin desired Clarissa but it was decidedly less apparent to him that his wife, Rose, still cast passionate glances in the young man's direction when she thought no one else could see. Clarissa and Merrin stayed in Wothering for some time. During that time, she convinced not only Septimus but all of the Wizards of the town that she was capable of defeating Hotep-Ra, not because she was a superior Wizard but because she knew the source of his power. She would not clue Septimus into this, insisting that if she said it aloud, terrible things could befall all of the Wizards. Septimus, despite deeply desiring to know, decided to accept her decision to remain silent for the moment. His main desire at the moment was to save Marcia and liberate the Castle. Clarissa's only term was that, once they had successfully retaken the city, she would become ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Septimus had agreed to this, feeling certain that Marcia too would agree in order to give all of the Wizards the lives that they deserved. Clarissa and Merrin determined that they would remain in Wothering rather than attempting to move all of the Wizards to another location. Such a large escape would no doubt arouse suspicion in Hotep-Ra or in Cerys that could be easily avoided. Thus it was here that a plan was formed. The Wizards were to attack on the night Marissa's baby was due to be born, a night rapidly approaching.

xxx

Marcellus Pye was misery. It was his new name, his new vocation. Every day, Cerys entered the oppressive sitting room that had become his world and proceeded to torture him in various ways, each more horrible than the next, in order to convince him to provide her with the tincture of Eternal Youth. Marcellus refused to relent. There was no point. Only he knew the secret. Well, he and Septimus did and Septimus was hardly going to reveal the secret. Marcellus had no reason to keep to fighting for his life and thus Cerys, ruthless though she was, was fighting a losing battle. No one can threaten a man who is not afraid of death and Marcellus was such a man. With each day, he grew weaker, propelled forward only by thoughts of Septimus and of Marcia. He recalled with perfect clarity the manner in which Marcia had smiled at him following the denaturing of the Two Faced Ring some time ago. Smiled at him! It all seemed incredible now, real and yet unreal. It had taken long hours of sitting in that wretched room alone for Marcellus to realize what it was that had drawn him to Marcia in such a way, even if he had initially denied himself the simultaneous pleasure and pain of admitting that he had fallen in love with her. Marcia was Broda. Marcellus had never believed in reincarnation but, as he looked at Marcia, he felt that she was indeed his dear wife, a new age version of her. Both her appearance and her behavior were nearly a perfect match. It was, he was beginning to acknowledge, a greater torture to imagine that clumsy, horrid sailor man laying his hands on her than it was to be tortured by Cerys's violent curses. Marcia was the cause of Marcellus's misery; Cerys only contributed.

Thus, one afternoon, when Marcellus heard a familiar voice in the room next to him, his heart flooded with emotion. It was her! He had reached a point in his obsession now that he would have known her voice anywhere. Without thinking, he called out, "Marcia! Marcia, can you hear me?" But there was no response. Again and again the old alchemist tried, beating his fists against the wall in utter frustration. At last, a sound reached his ears but it was not, unfortunately, the sound for which he had been longing.

A high pitched scream which Marcellus momentarily struggled to imagine escaping Marcia Overstrand wafted over to his ears. He shuddered, knowing that, in order to produce a sound such as that one, whoever was in there with Marcia was putting her through a great deal of pain. "Marcia!" he screamed, beating the wall furiously with both fists. "Marcia!"

In a moment, the door to his room was opened and Cerys arrived, a look of pure hatred in her bright violet eyes. "If you don't shut up, I shall make you." she said coldly, "What I choose to do to the other…tenants of _my _ Palace is not your concern and verbally objecting to my decisions is a mistake, Marcellus." In spite of himself, Marcellus shivered.

"Let her go." He said quietly.

Cerys laughed, a bright tingling laugh that set his nerves on edge. "On one condition."

Marcellus shuddered, already knowing what it would be. Cerys could tell in his expression that he knew and her lips curled into a wicked grin as a result. Marcellus took a deep breath, thinking simultaneously of Marcia and his Broda. They melded together into his mind. One courageous, charming, lovely woman, the woman he loved. He sighed. "If I begin to create the tincture of Eternal Youth for you, you will consent to leave her alone?"

Cerys nodded, a little impatiently. "Of course, of course, if you make the tincture, I'll never harm another hair on her head. If you refuse, however…well, Hotep-Ra isn't as picky as he seems. He could find another wife…"

"All right, all right!" Marcellus cried miserably, "I'll do it. Just don't harm Marcia, please."

Cerys nodded. "Agreed." she hissed and then she departed as quickly as she had come. Marcellus felt relief flood over him for the first time in weeks. His weeks of torture had come to an end now that he had agreed to the Queen's demands and he had bought Marcia's safety. It would take a few years to create the tincture and, by that time, Marcia would be Hotep-Ra's wife. Somehow, Marcellus doubted that Hotep-Ra would allow the Queen to torture his wife, whatever Cerys said to the contrary. Thus, with a heavy heart, Marcellus commenced the task of making Queen Cerys the Queen for the rest of the city's existence.

xxx

Nicko Heap's injury had rendered him a listless man. He no longer had the same lust for life that he had once possessed. His parents worried for him. He was not even excited when Lucy, Simon's much put upon wife, finally gave birth to the couple's first child, William Sam Heap. The birth of the child was a small blessing to the Heap family but Nicko could not have been less thrilled. With a sadness that is not even describable, Silas and Sarah regarded their son's pain, knowing that they could do nothing for it. They looked upon Nicko and knew that he was envying his eldest brother, knowing that he would never be able to begin a family, as Simon had, and all because he had stood beside his sister during her state of madness. It was for this reason that, when Snorri Snorelson arrived in Wothering looking for Nicko, Silas had informed her that a visit was a terrible idea. The young Northern Trader, had, as ever, ignored the orders given to her and she approached Nicko. Snorri had heard much about the Wizards' plight and it was this plight that had driven her to the side of the man she had once loved so dearly. Distance had not permitted her to forget the times that they had shared with one another and now, in what she knew would be a difficult time for his people, she had arrived.

Nicko had been staring at the windowpane in his bedroom for what felt like days when Snorri entered his room. Initially, he believed her to be an apparition, a figure of his wildest dreams but as she reached out toward him and said, in that distinct, Northern accent, "Nicko, I am here now." Nicko knew that it was real.

All manner of emotion crashed into him at once. Here was Snorri, certainly, with her exquisite long, white-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, who else could she be? He wanted to see her, longed to touch her with every fibre of his being and yet he dared not. Touching her would mean nothing now. It would amount to nothing. Even if she had returned for him as he had always dreamed she would, she would not want him once she was privy to what had happened to him. He was a half man. No woman in her right mind would near such a fellow if her whole life depended on it. Snorri would want a good life, a man who could provide for her perhaps, and children. Nicko knew now that he could not be any of those things. Snorri was a temptation to him, a pointless temptation that would never be relevant. As she strode into the room, more beautiful than even his dreams had made her, he turned away from her and stared deliberately at the floor below.

"Nicko," Snorri started softly, "Nicko, your parents….your parents say that you have been hurt. How were you hurt? I am so sorry I was away for so long. I returned as quickly as I could but I am too late. What horrors have happened here? They have burned down the Wizard Tower? Jenna's mother is risen from the dead and she has manipulated everyone? That is what your father was saying. He said that the Wizards are referring to her as the Mad Queen. Oh Nicko, I'm so sorry. I never should have left."

"No." Nicko said coldly and simply, "No, you should not have. You've missed a great deal, Snorri. It would probably be best for you to go home."

Snorri's eyes, betraying shamelessly her sympathy and affection for her former lover, filled with tears. "Oh Nicko, I made a terrible mistake by leaving. I should have remained by your side forever. If you give me a chance, I will do that now. I love you, Nicko, and I have loved no one else."

Nicko was not moved. "There were stories of you and a handsome trader."

"Stories!" Snorri exclaimed indignantly, "Since when did you believe mere stories, Nicko? I know you better than this and you know me. I love you and I always have. Do not be angry, Nicko. Whatever burdens you have been made to carry, I will love you in spite of them." Snorri approached Nicko and placed her long, slender fingers against his face. To her delight, he did not pull away, as she had expected he would. "Oh Nicko, sometimes people must come apart in order to grow together once again. We will be stronger than before even, I feel that now. Please, please listen to me." Snorri permitted her full lips to grace Nicko's soft, vulnerable cheek. He shivered. Finally, Snorri's words had reached him. Her obvious passion for him was making him feel alive in a way that he had not felt in some time. It was all so sudden, to have her back so quickly and to see so apparently her desire for him and yet, he had no interest in contemplating why she had returned or even what she truly felt for him. She wanted him. Whether that meant she loved him was another matter but she definitely desired him. Nicko's frustration was growing with every second. This gorgeous girl desired him and he was doomed to be forever incapable of giving himself to her or any other woman.

"Snorri," he managed, doing his best to keep his voice steady, "We have grown apart in such a way that I doubt if we can ever 'come back together' as you say. It may not be possible and if it were, we would need time."

Snorri shook her head vehemently. "Nicko, I love you and we do not have time. Your parents, when I spoke to them, made it sound as though the Wizards do not have much hope. If…if something is to happen…if the situation is to become more dire…I don't want to die without having known you in the most intimate way possible. I am yours tonight, Nicko."

Nicko felt what could only be bile rising in his throat. It was just his luck that Snorri had finally returned and was offering herself to him, just as he had always hoped that she would and he was unable to take her as his own. He cursed his luck more than ever before as he watched Snorri trembling before him, longing to share what would surely be a wonderful experience with him. Unable to prevent himself, Nicko drew himself to his feet and, lost in the images that were filling his head of Snorri and what a night with her would mean, he rushed toward her and pulled her suddenly, passionately into an embrace. The quick force of Nicko's action surprised Snorri, who had begun to think that he might reject her altogether. "Snorri," he whispered into her hair, "Oh Snorri," and he pulled her closer to him as their lips joined, just as they had years before, "You're an angel, Snorri."

"_Your _angel." Snorri whispered passionately, "All yours." and she pressed her lips even more forcefully to his. As she did so, Nicko lost himself in the bliss of holding her, the sensation of loving her in a way that he still could. Loving her! Was it possible that he could still love Snorri, just not in the way that he originally intended? Nicko found that he was thinking rapidly as Snorri disentangled herself from his arms and, before his eyes, she began to remove her garments. At last, she was bare before him and he knew without a doubt that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. It occurred to him at that moment, staring that the stunning creature before him, that this matter of intimacy was more about giving pleasure than receiving it himself and he could still give Snorri pleasure and, he hoped, she would still love him in spite of his injury.

"I will make tonight about you." He murmured softly, gently-almost cautiously-reaching forward to touch her form. Snorri reached for his hand and brought it to her body.

"Do not be afraid, Nicko." She whispered, "Come to me." As he came closer still, Snorri frowned and began to remove Nicko's tunic. He stuck out a hand to stop her.

"You can't do that."

Snorri was visibly disappointed. "If I can not see you, where is the fun for me?"

"I…I can't let you see me." Nicko stammered, "but…but if you promise to close your eyes I will…I will let you touch me." Nicko cringed involuntarily, waiting for Snorri to reject him once and for all but instead, she graced him with a smile.

"Okay, Nicko. This time, we will do it your way but you will always be beautiful to me, no matter what you can or cannot do. Please understand this." He words reached his heart and warmed it in a way that he could not have imagined possible. This was what he had been longing for since his injury. He had feared that, after he had been harmed in such a way, he would be rendered unlovable and yet, Snorri still desired him. His fears were assuaged. And with that, Nicko embarked on an evening in which he learned the true meaning of sharing pleasure and emerged a changed man. He was not to know at the time that this transformation would result in the journey of a lifetime, an awakening unlike any he could have imagined.

xxx

The morning following Snorri and Nicko's night together was an eventful one in Wothering. Clarissa Demarte and Septimus had been awake all evening, discussing their future plans. Septimus had left Rose to her own devices, assuming that she would need some rest after all that she had endured recently. Septimus had passed most of the night begging Clarissa to tell him what was important about Marissa's baby and, indeed, what was important about Marissa at all. What connection did she have to Hotep-Ra? Clarissa had told him time and time again that he would understand once they arrived in the Castle on the night the child was to be born. The birth of the child would explain it all, she said. Septimus was, as ever, inclined to believe her but he felt uncomfortable being left in the dark in such a way. It seemed to him that there were even things Merrin understood that he did not. _Merrin. _ There was something about Merrin that still made him uncomfortable in spite of the fact that he now had more significant things about which to worry. He attempted to shake off his worries but the sense of foreboding remained in spite of his efforts.

Even though Septimus was struggling to decide what it was about Merrin that was bothering him more than usual, Syrah Syara was having no such issues. She knew perfectly well that the previous night had been one of the best nights of Rose's life. Merrin had returned to her and they had, much like Nicko and Snorri, shared an evening together. The principle of the event did not please Syrah as much as she knew that, as Rose's friend, it should have for three reasons. The first of those, naturally, was that it reminded her of what she had lost with Hildegarde, Hildegarde who had betrayed her, Hildegarde whom Syrah still had no idea had died. The second reason was that she was coming to respect Septimus Heap as he grew into a mature young man and could not help but think that, in spite of Rose's dislike of the marriage, what she was doing was unfair to him. But the true reason for her despair at Merrin and Rose'e coupling was far deeper than even she herself wanted to explore. During the past few months, she had begun to reach the conclusion that her feelings for Rose had grown deeper than those of a friend. She had attempted to conceal her feelings and suppress them, willing them to vanish but, sadly for Syrah, they did no such thing. They only continued to grow to the point that Syrah wondered if she had always felt for Rose. It was odd as well in the sense that, although her feelings for Rose were becoming undeniable, she felt no less for Hildegarde than she ever had, though she did her best to control those feelings as well. Syrah could not prevent herself from wondering what would occur if she were to confess to Rose that she was beginning to fancy her. She was intelligent enough to realize that, even if she did confess these feelings to Rose, they might only startle her. After all, she was a married woman now and had feelings for another individual. Syrah was no longer certain what she thought of Merrin. He had, after all, abandoned Rose when she had needed him most. Syrah openly blamed Merrin for much of Rose's misfortune and this was something that Rose had come to resent in Syrah. "You care for me too much, Syrah," she would say sometimes, "I am not as perfect as you say. Merrin is not perfect either. We all make mistakes. He has lived a tough life and could not help what he did." Syrah's anger at Merrin had continued to grow as she had observed him mingling with Clarissa Demarte and had noticed that he possessed a very serious kind of reverence for her, perhaps even a sort of adoration. Merrin's behavior made it apparent that, whatever he felt for Rose, he felt more for Clarissa. It disgusted Syrah. Merrin did not deserve Rose. He had made one too many mistakes in Syrah's opinion and it would not, in estimation, be outrageous for him to pay for his behavior in some capacity. However, she knew that, with Marissa Lane due to give birth in a mere few days, this was not the time for her to bring up the subject of her distaste for Merrin Meredith, even if he had just experienced with Rose what she had subconsciously always wished would be a possibility for her. She could not permit jealously to rule her-not yet. All the same, she would keep an eye on Merrin. That, she determined, would be necessary.

xxx

Beetle had, at the order of Queen Cerys, assumed his position in the Manuscriptorium once more. However, with the events of the past few months behind him, he found that his excitement about the job had died. Everything seemed to him dark and empty. More than once each day, he wished that he had never attended that fateful street show with Milo Banda and thus never seen Marissa Lane at all. He heard people whispering about Marissa all of the time now, saying that it was _she _ and not Hotep-Ra who held the true power and that, once her child was born, Hotep-Ra and the Queen would be her puppets in a sense. But what did people mean by this? Beetle did not know. How could any child he had given her be worth all that? Who was this child to be? Or…Beetle hated to consider this but…._what _ was it to be? Nothing he heard about the new government made sense to him at all. He worried constantly about Jenna and wished desperately that he had been able to protect her from all of the evil that had come into her life. He felt, somehow, that he had failed her by blindly trusting Marissa and refusing to note that Jenna's behavior had been indicative of the fact that something had been very wrong indeed. Had he not known her well enough to guess that something had been amiss? Beetle consistently blamed himself for the mess that had arisen in the Castle. People said that Marissa was different. How? What could that mean? There were many ways in which a person could be different, after all. They acted as though there was a touch of something about her, however, a touch of something which no one could truly understand or explain and, for that reason, it frightened them. It frightened Beetle as well. He wanted to see the child he had fathered but he was afraid to see it as well, half expecting it to be not a human, but a monster, the monster he saw in his dreams every night-with its tiny wings and wild tangled fangs…

xxx

Marissa Lane was in labor. The baby had begun making its way out of her at nearly three am that morning. She was brought immediately to the Palace where she could be attended to not only by the best midwives in the Castle but also by Hotep-Ra himself. This baby was special. It would need to be observed carefully. Even Cerys was present at the event. Hotep-Ra was almost more excited about the birth of this child than he was about his upcoming marriage to Marcia Overstrand, which was to occur in a mere week. Hotep-Ra had, in fact, gone to fetch Marcia in order to make her watch this event also. Marcia had been reluctant to go and, even now, was standing in the corner of the room, convinced that she was out of Marissa's sight. She knew more about this birth than she was letting on, what it would entail, what could come of it. She bit her lip slightly and began to play with her fingers without considering it. Hotep-Ra had, by now, been around Marcia to know what that meant. Marcia was nervous. But why nervous? What was there to be nervous about? It had seemed to him that, over the past few weeks, she had been more tolerant of him and he had begun to tell himself that Marcia would probably fall in love with him at some point in the future. She would certainly do so as soon as Queen Cerys found it fit to have Milo Banda executed. But the Queen was taking her time…and the Queen knew best, after all.

The room was dark and a kind of musk hung in it. A strange smell which Marcia had smelled only once before and never forgotten. As she smelled it, her stomach twisted into knots and she suddenly felt that breathing was an impossible task. That smell could only mean one thing….it would explain so much…the sense of foreboding she felt, the things that people expected from this child….everything. She shook herself and told herself to stop being silly. There was no way on earth that there could be a connection. She was imagining it all. There was no other explanation. _Come on, Marcia,_ she told herself sternly, _get a grip._ All the same, she couldn't and, when Hotep-Ra noticed this, he approached her. He admired her for a moment before he spoke. Marcia really was breathtaking. Her long, ebony hair had been pulled away from her face in way that displayed her elegant neck and, for some reason Hotep-Ra could not comprehend, Marcia was making an effort to pull her hair down once again. "Don't, Dearheart." He started, "It looks lovely. I thought you might wear it like that in our wedding."

Marcia's piercing green eyes met his and, for the first time, Hotep-Ra observed that there was something unusual in them this evening, something that even he did not understand. This bothered him. "Marcia, what is the matter? This is to be a night to celebrate the greatest **magyk ** of all. I thought you would be very pleased."

"This is blood **magyk**." Marcia hissed angrily and so enraged was her tone that it caught Hotep-Ra completely off guard. "Someone ought to put a stop to this right now. This girl has taken a noble idea and turned it upside and therefore defeated its purpose altogether. Blood **magyk** is a dangerous thing. You must have respect for it if you are to use it."

Hotep-Ra nodded in agreement, surprised that Marcia, who had always seemed so opposed to **darke ** things, was so knowledgeable about Blood **magyk**. "But Marissa has abused nothing. She is incredibly special. You know this. Her child….who knows what it will do…."

"I know perfectly well what it could be capable of!" Marcia snapped indignantly, "I know exactly what she has done. She has taken an old **magyk ** practice and twisted it for her own use. She has forgotten her own purpose."

Now there were priestesses chanting over Marissa as she continued with her labor, when at last Marissa's offspring wormed its way out of her and lay immersed in its mother's juices, the chief of the priestesses called out, "Marissa, your family is in this room! The family of this wondrous being whom you have brought to us. Point out the family. I sense the family. Who is your relative here? Ah…it is a very close relation!" With this, the priestess began to hum in a high pitch and Marissa, who knew that she had to identify any family members before she could even look into the eyes of the being she had created, complied. With what little strength she had left, Marissa sat up and pointed a delicate finger at Marcia and with what little strength she had left, she managed, "Mother." Before crashing back down onto the pillows and losing consciousness altogether as blood seeped out of her and bathed the creature that had just arisen from her frail body.


End file.
